Change the Present, Kill the Future
by SSG Dignam
Summary: The costly victory at the end of MK9 has left Earthrealm with a bleak and violent future at the hands of Shinnok. Raiden goes back and recruits additional fighters to change the future before its too late. Rated T for, you guessed it, violence/language
1. Stroll on the beach

"_From this moment onward, you are no longer Army Rangers. You are no longer infantrymen, grunts, squad leaders, or tech specialists. You are killers. Having survived our extensive training program and behavioral augmentation, you are the best that we can make you._

_You are the best young men I have ever trained, but mark my works: You are good at what you have been trained to do, but you will never do anything else ever again."_

Chapter 1

Pain. A tight, sharp jolt of pain just below my left shoulder. Whatever it was, the wielder hadn't jabbed hard enough to break my skin, but just so that it hurt enough to wake up. A blade of some sort, sharp and thin. Probably a bayonet or a pike, judging by the momentum behind it.

One of the few things that could have disturbed my slumber.

I heard a man's dull words echo through my ear canal. They sounded distant, almost dreamlike. Definitely a foreign language.

But they were irrevocably harsh and tainted with authority. A military man, or maybe a cop. They know how to talk at somebody real good. Words of warning, maybe? A threat of some sort? If I was trespassing in some way, that was news to me.

I stretched out my arms from under me and rolled over, prepared to get some answers.

The sun blinded me for a brief instant, rays of yellow were a pretty good contrast to the blackness of being facedown in the sand. The sun was directly above me, midday, and was partially covered by light fluffy clouds, which did little to reduce its brightness.

The man above me came into view. At first he looked like a lost trick-or-treater, wearing a flat black mask and some kind of robe that seemed to meld with his creamy trousers. His mask had some kind of design on it, a design that seemed to mimic a human face, only with cat's eyes and no mouth or nose. Sharp, angled frills at the top-most parts finished off the bizarre look The only indication that he was speaking was his head bobbing up and down behind the ridiculous headdress.

I held my hands in front of my face in a defensive position, the glint of a blade flashed in the corner of my right eye.

Sand rained down from in between my fingers, peppering my face with crushed bits of earth. I groaned and tried to sit up, burying my fingers in the sandy ground beside me to get a good grip.

In a moment a long, curved blade was in my face. We both froze, and the blade remained stone-still, less than a centimeter from the tip of my nose.

"Whoa, buddy." I let him see my empty hands, holding them up just above my head. "I don't want any trouble, okay?"

He cocked his head suspiciously, his flat mask hiding his reaction. But that spear stayed right where it was, a quick jab away from ending my life in an instant.

He finally relented, moving the weapon slowly back to his side.

I staggered to my feet, doing an awkward dance to avoid face planting in the dirt in front of him. The muscles in my calves didn't want to cooperate, but I refused to humiliate myself in front of this guy.

My clothes were soggy and cumbersome around my battered body, twice their weight wet. I brushed some of the grains of sand off of my blue dress shirt, which was hardly worthy of such a name now: Unbuttoned and hanging loosely around my shoulders, covered in sand and wrinkled, fabric folding and unnaturally and mimicking the sea that it had just taken a ride through.

My white undershirt hadn't fared much better, but I could live with that.

I looked in the soldier's eyes, or what looked to be eyes on his mask.

He remained in front of me, taking a wide stance with the bladed pike down by his side, hovering just above the sand. He was tense, broad shoulders flexing and firm in that same instant beneath his uniform. He was ready to fight, and that made one of us.

"English? English speak?" I offered. "If you understand me, just nod or something."

He remained unmoving on the beach, waves crashing upon the shore behind him. The cool water lapped at both of our feet, but nothing happened.

I held my hands up, palms out, in front of my face and throat, and began to back away slowly.

"Look, pal," I started.

_Step_

"I know you can hear me, but since you aren't saying anything and probably can't speak english, I'm just going to walk away."

_Step_

He said something to me, another harsh, sharp phrase. He spoke so fast I couldn't make out the language, but that might have been the point.

Maybe he wanted to fight.

"Look, I don't understand you. Since you are over there," I pointed over his shoulder at the dense forest behind him. "-And since I'm over here, I'm just going to go that way, and I'll be out of your hair."

There. Now I could leave this enigmatic man and find out where I really was.

I turned and walked the other way, setting a brisk pace for myself in the thick sand.

He yelled something unintelligible behind me, but I kept walking.

The proud and self-centered side of me wanted to turn and fight him, but my logical side kept propelling forward, away from potential conflict. Training I had received was just as prevalent in my mind as my primal instincts most days.

He yelled again, but stood his ground. As long as he was only going to use his words and not that fancy staff, then I had no reason to make any trouble with him. A few insults never killed anybody, but what follows verbal taunting tends to. So I stayed clear and kept going my own way.

Suddenly, I head soft footsteps behind me. A steadily quickening tempo of muffled footfalls. Is this really happening right now?

Getting closer. Almost to a full run.

Aw crap, here we go.

I wheeled around and threw my hands up in front of my face in a defensive position.

The guard quit the subtle tactics as soon as I faced him. He broke into a sprint and held the spear out in front of him, on a collision course with my midsection.

I waited until the gap had almost closed, and then dived left towards the water. I flung my entire body at the sea, tucking and rolling onto my feet as soon as I fell back to earth.

He wasn't phased. He turned left and swung the spear in a wide horizontal arc, barely missing my sternum at the apex of the motion.

I sucked in and stepped backward to avoid the next swish, ankle deep in sea water now. He had the high ground, and was closing the short gap in between us, fast.

_Come on pal, take a jab with that pike. I've got your number if you try it._

He hovered at the edge of the water, pausing for an eternity before making his move.

I tried so take a deep breath, steady my breathing, and slow my heart rate down. If I did I would stop shaking and the electricity flowing through me would quit making me shake in front of my opponent.

Sure enough, he adjusted his grip on the weapon, rolled his shoulders, and jabbed straight at my heart.

I quickly sidestepped and closed the distance between us, getting on the 'inside' of his stance.

He reeled and tried to pull back the long weapon, but it was too late. I was _thisclose _to him, so much so that I could smell the last traces of insets on his jacket from a ritual he must have performed early in the day.

I threw a flat palm into his side, just below his floating rib in the sweet spot where his kidney was sheltered. I felt a soft crunch under my palm as he doubled over in pain. I didn't hesitate, bringing my right elbow up under his jaw, just below his Adam's apple.

He made a wheezing sound before dropping onto his butt in the dirt. He couldn't breath, a sensation I doubt he had felt before. Poor guy, he was probably just doing his job, and he was going to choke on his own windpipe for it.

_SWISH_

A hot iron had been dragged across my chest, drawing blood as his pike completed its arc. His mask, blank and expressionless, somehow conveyed a little bit of satisfaction of landing his blow from the ground.

I staggered backward, opening my shirt to look at the cut.

Huh, not too bad. No serious bleeding, but I might need a band aid or two.

I looked back up to see the man back on his feet and coming straight for me. His eyes were wild and primitive, hungry for revenge. My elbow strike must now have been that effective after all.

I ducked under his pike and smashed my palm into his mask. If I had used my fist, I might have broken my knuckles because the darn thing was made of thick, well treated wood fibers.

It had no effect, but the next two shots to his ribs did the trick. He staggered and I grabbed his left hand at the wrist and wrapped my arm around it, jerking hard to the left until it popped.

He finally dropped the pike.

He headbutted me with that reinforced mask and sent me reeling backward. I threw up my hands and beat down his right hook as he quickly advanced.

I nearly took a high kick to the ribs in the next instant. But I caught his foot with both of my hands and simply stepped backward.

He fell awkwardly in the sand, and I followed up with a kick to the side of his face, my foot connecting with his head just behind his mask.

He rolled to the side, drawing a wicked dagger as he swung himself back onto his feet to face me. One smooth motion. He was well trained indeed.

I held my hands up in front of my face and throat in a defensive posture, backing up.

He was in pain, serious pain. And his weakened stance showed it.

I took a deep breath. "Look, man. Just-"

The glint of his blade in the sunlight cut me off. He slashed upward, and I stepped back. He thrusted and I backed up and circled around him, pissing him off even more.

He took another jab with the curved blade, but this time I stepped forward.

He was surprised, but not stunned as I grabbed his knife hand at the small gap where the wrist meets the forearm. I wrapped my other arm around his, pressing the outside of my elbow against the inside of his. The figure our arms formed looked exactly like a four for a brief instant as I locked up his arm in the high noon sun.

Then I pulled him forward and pressed down on the base of his hand, my thumb bending his wrist at the _fulcrum_ behind his thumb at a 90 degree angle.

Then I turned the blade against him and stepped forward for a final time.

MKMKMK

The Masked Guard cautiously approached Jade on the elevated platform above the battleground, shaking while he ran. Jade didn't like to be interrupted while having words with Kitana, but this was too important.

Jade turned, her masked face beautiful and intimidating in the same instant. She clutched a short combat staff tightly in her right hand, already upset at something.

He dropped to his knees on the stony ground in front of her. "My lady, there is a matter I must speak to you about."

She sighed. "Proceed. It had better be important."

"Yes," he stammered. "There is… someone else here… on the island."

She put her hands on her hips and sighed. Kitana turned towards them with interest.

"Spit it out, we haven't got all day here."

"Yes, there is a man here on the island. Our men found him on the shore, and he was not one of Shang Tsung's fighters. A guard approached him, but he was overpowered and killed-"

"What?" Kitana demanded, officially joining the conversation. "And why, pray tell, are you not down there now?"

"I am the fastest runner, and there are six men down there. We must hurry. They will kill him if provoked."

Kitana threw up her arms in despair. "Why do we even keep you people around? All you do is stand around watching other people fight, or get killed yourselves when you try to join in."

Jade held up a hand before Kitana could speak. "I'll handle this one, my lady. I'll show him how Edinians handle unwanted guests."

ELSEWHERE

Liu Kang rose from his push up position when he heard footsteps on the layer of stone covering the forest floor.

"Raidan!" he exclaimed before bowing his head to the man with blue eyes in beggar's clothes. "It is good to see you, sir."

"Rise, Liu Kang. I am afraid we do not have the luxury of time today. There is something I must tell you about this tournament."

Liu Kang nodded and rose onto his feet, feeling the familiar strain of the morning PT in his calves and thighs.

Raidan began to walk, and Liu Kang followed obediently.

"Liu Kang, there is something you must know. The coming weeks will be more important to Earthrealm than the past thousand years." He spoke powerfully, with a deep voice. Yet Liu Kang always thought that he was humble. Especially for a god.

"With all due respect, Master Raidan, I know the importance of this tournament."

"Yes, but there is something else you must know. There is an evil loose in this universe. An evil that I do not yet understand."

"Shao Kahn," Liu Kang replied. "It is hard to comprehend one who seeks to possess entire realms, only to turn them into as barren wasteland. You do not have to understand him."

"No," Raidan interrupted. "There is another."

"Who?" Liu Kang asked, stopping and turning towards the thunder god.

"Someone worse. His hate of all things has festered over the ages into something that I cannot comprehend. He has spent years in the depths of hell, planning his rise back to the land of the living. His resentment of the Elder Gods and his fiery ambition are the only things that have kept him alive in the fires of Netherrealm. He resides there, unable to cross over onto our plane."

"Then why is he a problem at all?" Liu Kang demanded. He enjoyed Raidan's company, but the man was way too cryptic sometimes.

"His name is Shinnok, and he will destroy Earthrealm unless we stop him," Raidan said frankly.

"One problem at a time. Shang Tsung and Shao Kahn are dangerous enough as is. Once this tournament is over, if we win, then we can turn our attention to this Shinnok."

Raidan held up a hand and his glowing eyes intensified.

"Liu Kang, I have seen the future, and you will die if we do not change it now. Everyone who dares to take up arms against this evil will be killed, and everything we have fought so hard for will amount to nothing. This has happened once before. I can sense the threads of time wearing thin, like somone from the future is somehow trying to tell me that things should be different... I cannot lose you, Liu Kang. Even now our enemies work against us."

Liu Kang folded his arms across his chest and shook his head impatiently. "You cannot change fate, Raidan. You of all people must know."

Raidan came close to grinning. "I already have. There are new fighters here on the island, several Earthream warriors. A Police officer, a Lin Kuei, a fugitive, and swordsman who will join our cause."

"And what if they die, Raidan? What if they are killed by Shao Kahn's fighters? What will you say then?"

Raidan didn't answer that question. He couldn't.

Finally, he spoke.

"Come, Liu Kang. I sense that one of our guests has already arrived."


	2. The Game has changed

The guard's boot hit me square in the ribs. I doubled over, gasping for air, and a second set of hands grabbed me from behind and pulled me back up to my full height.

The second man's powerful arms held me upright as I stared into the first attacker's eyes. Cold and emotionless behind that mask, yet ablaze with rage.

He stepped forward and threw a right crosswise punch at my jaw.

But I was ready for him this time.

My heel shot back and crushed the balls of the jerkoff who had been holding me. He went down like a ton of bricks, clutching with both arms that which he would probably never use again.

I dropped down on my haunches and let the punch sail over my head. I was looking at his torso now, and started swinging.

I threw my elbow into his side, just beneath where his ribcage disappears and gives way to the soft organs below. It didn't hurt my arm, but I felt the muscles in my own side screamed as I strained them with the strike.

He grunted in pain, and the hammerfist he was about to bring down on my back glanced off of my shoulder. Then I rose to my feet, thrusting my head forward, up, and into his chin, a basic self-defense technique that would make almost anybody bite their tongue off if you did it right.

I hit him with a flat palm in the jaw, and he spat a stream of blood onto the white beach sand as he reeled backward. He was dazed and in pain, but I wasn't finished with him yet.

Then another guard threw himself into me, knocking me down onto my back and throwing up a shower of sand. Crap, I thought I had put him out already. But they just kept getting back up these guys. Why couldn't they just quit?

He tried to pin me down, but I wriggled out from underneath his hold and scrambled back onto my feet. For a moment his hot breath was on my neck, and I remembered that behind that mask that he was still just a man.

I held my hands up, palms open and facing outward, and guarded my face and throat from my attacker. But he didn't come alone. Another guard joined his side and they drew their daggers, wicked looking combat blades, from their tunics.

Unfortunately, they didn't just come at me one at a time like they do in the movies. No, these guys were too smart for that.

They all leapt at once, slashing at me like wild animals. Out of the corner of my eye I saw another attacker coming full force, and still in possession of his pike.

I reeled back, watching in horror as the blades danced in the air only a few inches in front of me, dangerously close and with no sign of slowing down. I was afraid for my life, but I couldn't let them know that.

I hit the first man's wrist and batted it away with my forearm. The second man swung fast and low, aiming to spill my guts on the beach. I grabbed his wrist at the apex of his swing and pulled him toward me. Just a little pull to get him off balance.

I kicked backward and swept the first man's feet out from under him. He wasn't nearly done, but it would give me at least another second to fight off the other one.

Suddenly, the attacker who was standing released one of his hands from the knife and struck me across the face with a closed fist. Holy Jesus. That hurt. I tasted blood, hot and metallic, welling in my mouth.

He tried it again, reeling back only a few inches this time before swinging.

I knocked his punch away with my forearm and grabbed his knife hand with both of mine.

_Let's try this again, punk._

A loud pop sounded as his wrist was dislocated from the rest of his arm, the bone and tissue under his skin contorting in an unnatural way. It almost made me sick, but it needed to be done.

He wailed and the knife fell into oblivion. I stepped forward and hit him with a right elbow in the facemask.

_Jab, jab, cross._ Two punches to his face and a third to his throat dropped him to the floor.

The man running with the pike was practically on top of me when I turned around. I had completely forgotten about him. The man who just had his legs swept out from under him was now standing and facing me. He slashed with the knife, drawing hot red from my cheek. If I hadn't turned to look at the runner, then the end of his pike would be buried in my throat right now.

I hit the guy with the knife first, just below the ribcage, and he went down hard. But he grabbed me by my shirt front and pulled me down with him. His icy fingers were so close to my throat that the hairs on my arms and neck stood on end.

Oh my God.

I balled up my left hand into a fist and smashed the bottom into his face in a downward motion. His eyes shut, and his hand released its iron grip. Out cold.

I quickly turned and met the other attacker. But he was already swinging, fast and hard.

He feigned right with the blade of his spear, and I fell for it. I moved left and back, and only afterward did I realize my mistake. He was still in the same place, and I was wide open.

The feeling that I had been punked hit me right after the butt of his staff did; a hard shot to the stomach. I don't remember eating anything recently, but I spat _something_ awful onto the ground.

I hit my knees in the sand, trying to regain a sense of balance. My training kicked in.

_Stop fighting and you're dead. Keep it up, there's no stopping point. No "you can give up when" point, just kill the fool before he can kill you._

I tucked and rolled to the left, and his spear buried itself into the dirt. In a moment I was back on my feet, and I hit him.

A palm to the mask didn't do much damage, but I didn't let up.

Again and again and again the hard points on my body connected with him. Some were weak. Some missed. But I kept going.

_Elbow, Fist, Fist, Knee, Elbow_

I spat bright red into his face and hit him again.

Finally I gave him a shove and let him hit the deck. His face was a bloody pulp, mask smashed and eyes put out. I couldn't tell the broken mask from the remains of his face, but I was sure that he was dead.

Suddenly another fly kick hit me in the shoulder. It shouldn't have hurt, but it knocked me off of my feet and on top of the man I had just dispatched.

Another masked guard was standing over me, on the balls of his feet and ready to fight.

My legs burned as I tried to rise up and face him. But my legs had stopped cooperating.

Everywhere was sore. My clothes were stained and bloody, and I couldn't see straight. Was my vision permanently screwed up? Everything was blurry, and the damage certainly felt irreparable.

Spots polka-dotted my vision, trying to pull me under.

I saw his boot coming for my face and ducked to the side, throwing myself onto the hot surface of the beach.

I rolled over, gasping for air. I saw the bottom of his boot again, and it was getting bigger.

I rolled to the side and grabbed his leg.

I heard a loud snap, and then everything went dark.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Warm. Warm and reassuring. I could almost feel an electric current passing through me as he rolled me over.

For a second I thought my father was here, but only after I opened my eyes and saw that the man was like none other that I had met before. I squinted in the bright sunlight and blinked several times to make sure that I was seeing him correctly.

His eyes glowed bright blue, barely visible under a simple straw hat that was in the shape of a crushed cone; nearly four times as wide as it was tall. He wore a coat of bright blue and neon white, with an odd amulet on his right breast. The pattern on it looked cracked, but what did I know about ancient artifacts?

His face was weathered, but he didn't look that old. Whatever he was, I was at his mercy.

"By the gods, you're here!" he exclaimed. "What of the others?"

He spoke with urgency. It bothered me a little bit, the fact that he knew something that I did not. And I don't trust men with agendas, even the good guys.

I gasped for air. My voice was hoarse. "I can barely breathe."

He nodded, and a blue aura engulfed my body. Sparks shot out from his hands and found their way to my wounds.

My breathing became less labored, and I no longer tasted blood in my mouth. I inhaled deeply, expecting the pain of broken ribs to scorch me.

But there was no pain anymore.

I worked my fingers and wrists first, moving on to my shoulders and chest quickly, finding no pain or pressure anywhere.

"What?" I whispered as I rose to my feet. "What did you just do?"

He said nothing, and I felt a man clap a hand on my shoulder from behind me. I turned.

He had the body of a weightlifter, bulging muscles in full view on his bare chest. He wore a bright red headband and looked to be Asian. It's like somebody took Bruce Lee in his prime and crossed him with Arnold Schwarzenegger. His face was young, and he looked to be amused with something.

"Hey pal. Do you have any idea what's going on around here?" I asked.

He extended a hand. "Liu Kang. You are the American?"

I nodded slowly. "I am from America, it's where I was born. But where am I now, Liu Kang?"

"You have been chosen, American. You are about to compete in a tournament with me. There is much to explain, but if we lose, then everything you know will be destroyed." He spoke with such conviction it was hard not to take him seriously.

"Look, Liu Kang and company. I don't know who you are, but you've got the wrong guy. I never signed up for anything, and I am sure as hell not repeating the smash fest that just went down. No way no how." I held up my hands in surrender and began to back away.

The man with the blue eyes spoke again.

"You are Max Chacon, correct?"

I stopped. He actually knew my name.

"Born Maxwell Liam Chacon in the United States of America, February 18 1982. Raised in Boston, Massachusetts by your parents until joining the military at the age of 19. Correct me if I'm wrong."

"Wha-?" I stammered. "How do you know so much about me?"

_A blue-eyed devil._

He extended a hand. "My name is Raidan, and your questions will be answered shortly. Please come with me, there is much to do."

_Where am I?_

The question echoed through the swordsman's head. He heard trees shaking in the cool wind of night. A forest? The air still had traces of humidity from the heat of the day. A tropical forest?

Their exotic leaves played a melody that a man with lesser senses never would have heard. He thought about the rhythm for a moment, remembering classical music that he had heard as a child. It sounded familiar, but he was unable to place it.

Then a second beat started.

_Left 30 degrees. Footsteps. Heavy build. Combat boots. Rustling fabric._

He smelled incents carried by the wind. He knew not the flavor, but it was very bitter to his nostrils and left sort of an aftertaste when it passed.

A Crescendo of footsteps now. They had seen him.

He rolled his shoulders and neck, feeling the reassuring material of his shoulder pads against his cheek. His Katana grew heavy in its scabbard on his belt. It vibrated from the blade, letting its wielder know that trouble was coming.

He drew Sento from its cradle and held it down up in front of his face at an angle, ready to protect himself from an attacker.

The assailant's footsteps slowed down yet again to a crawl.

_Moving right._

Kenshi silently thanked Sento for noticing what he could not.

Without warning, he heard the end of something made of wood hit a flat palm. He sensed a blade at the end.

"Who are you, and where am I?" Kenshi demanded. He remembered sounds of a packed American city. Poisonous exhaust and smells of garbage, not the free feeling of nature.

The other man began to close the distance between them, slowly and deliberately.

"Take another step and it will be your last," Kenshi warned. He didn't want to kill a man who he didn't already know. This man smelled of perspiration and discipline, and disciplined men were greatly feared where Kenshi came from. But one trait alone did not make a man evil.

Kenshi was a good man, and a master swordsman. He was on a quest for revenge, but he was not evil because of it.

The man took another step, very softly his heel connected with the dirt ground.

Kenshi shook his head, and Sento hummed in his hands.

"Mistake." By the time the word had registered in the guard's ears, he was already dead.


	3. New Friends

The unbearably hot air cooled down as the sun began to fall on the horizon. The blistering heat lessened, and it felt better not having to stop and drink from Liu Kang's canteen every couple of minutes.

He was a nice guy, that Liu Kang. He was a warrior-monk from a group called the Shaolin. I never understood the term warrior-monk myself. You can be a fighter or you can be a pacifist; it is impossible to serve both masters equally.

But he was kind and patient with me and my questions. And believe me; I had a lot of them.

The two of us along with the one who was called Raiden walked through the jungle for several hours, getting a feel for the surrounding area.

"The essence of Mortal Kombat," Raiden concluded, "Is not about death, but life. Mortal men and women defending your own world."

I nodded. "From this, _Shao Kahn_?"

"Yes."

"And he wants to make this place like the one he currently rules?"

"Correct," Liu Kang said. "It is a barren wasteland, a final resting place for the realms that Shao Kahn has conquered over the years."

"Okay, so he can't do that without going through us first, right?" I asked them. If he was so powerful, then why didn't he just invade already? More importantly, if Raiden was really a god, then why hadn't he killed Kahn? But I didn't want to challenge him. I could hear an edge to his voice when I asked how powerful he was as the thunder god.

Maybe he had been defeated. In that case we were totally screwed.

"Right. He and his warriors from Outworld must win ten consecutive Mortal Kombat tournaments in order to merge our realm with his. And that will result in the greatest catastrophe known to you people. Those who survive will become slaves or runaways, hiding in the cold mountains of Outworld."

"Geez. What do the odds look like of Liu and me?" I asked him.

"You are not alone. Earthrealm has other fighters here. Some who have proven themselves in other fields of conflict, and others have talent that remains untapped."

_I wonder which he believes me to be._

Raiden suddenly stopped walking. So did Liu Kang.

_Obedient._

"Liu Kang, take Chacon and find out where the rest of our fighters have gone off to," Raiden said softly. He turned to the ocean and gazed stoically into the waves breaking just off of the shore. The water looked to be ablaze in the early sunset, burning bright orange between intermittent swells of the ocean current.

If anyone else had struck that dramatic of a pose it would have been ridiculous, but Raiden did everything with an air of silent strength and confidence. I see now why Liu Kang held him in such high esteem. Raiden represented order, purpose, and discipline to the Shaolin monk. He was Liu Kang's mentor, and maybe a father figure of some type.

But he wasn't perfect, that much I was sure. There's a reason I don't put too much stock in any person. Once the plan goes wrong, once one of Earthrealm's warriors gets killed or beaten, Liu Kang will lose a little of his faith in Raiden. Once the _grand plan_ goes wrong, once the dying starts, it will be every man for himself around here.

_Is Liu Kang ready for that?_

Liu Kang put his hands together, one a closed fist and the other a flat palm. He pressed them against his chest and bowed to Raiden before starting off.

_Very obedient. _

I silently followed him back the way we had come; a winding path of faded stone that seemed to circle the entire island. We had gone a long way in such a short time, I only now realized.

It was almost sunset when Liu and I neared the staging area. I could see the rainbow of colors blending in the sky over a broad peak that dominated the center of the island. The sun was almost finished setting.

"So," Liu Kang broke the silence. "You are from America? How is it these days?"

I shrugged. "I've been all over the map lately, so I might not be the best person to ask. But last time I checked, it was still there."

We both laughed a little.

"So what was that back there?" he asked me.

"What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean. On the beach, you engaged six of them and lived to tell about it. I'm not even sure that I could do that. So tell me, what was that and where did you learn it?" he asked eagerly.

I shrugged again. "It's called Krav Maga. It literally means "close kombat" in Hebrew. It is a couple of different fighting methods folded into one, pretty brutal form of fighting. Breaking and dislocating critical points on the body, using the hard points on your knees and elbows, a little boxing… And you almost never kick higher than your opponent's crotch either."

He nodded in approval.

"So what's your method, Liu?"

"I have been training for years," he said with a smile. "Kombat Karate, Monkey, Dragon… all useful forms. All my life I have heard how important this tournament is to Earthrealm, but now that I am finally here I can't help but be a little intimidated by our opposition."

_Wow. It takes a real man to admit that he is scared of something._

"They have powers that are not of this world," he informed me. We were nearing the main area now. I could see silhouettes dancing by the torchlights, practicing their form, no doubt.

"You'll see when we get up there, but they aren't like anything you've fought before-"

"From Outworld, right?"

"Yes. Hired by Shang Tsung to fight for the Emperor in the tournament."

"Peachy. What are our chances, Liu? Be honest now and tell me what you think the odds are that we'll come out on top of this mess."

"Honestly I don't really know. But we can't be afraid of them, Chacon. Whatever you do, don't show them your fear. You must not."

"_To manipulate the fear of others, you must first master your own_," I quoted.

"Who said that? A great American poet?" Liu asked.

"No. Liam Neeson, _Batman Begins_."

MKMKMK

Kenshi heard the two men approaching long before the others did.

One had deliberate, heavy footsteps. He spoke English with a slight Boston accent. He was talking quietly, but something told Kenshi that he wasn't doing it for fear of being heard, but rather because he was used to being alone.

The other had lighter and more balanced footfalls, and talked in a much more reserved tone. He was Asian judging by his slight accent. He was medium height, maybe an inch or two shorter than Kenshi judging by the source of his voice. No doubt one of the Shaolin there to represent the White Lotus society.

They were very close now, and stopped about five meters from him.

Kenshi pretended not to notice, swinging his beloved Sento in an arc before jumping and executing a fly kick.

"Wow, I wouldn't trust myself with a sharp object blindfolded," the American laughed.

His loud footsteps signaled his approach. He stopped walking just outside of Kenshi's reach with Sento, a smart move.

Kenshi cocked his head to the side. "You smell like the sea."

He laughed again. "Funny story about that, actually. Max Chacon, pleased to meet you."

He no doubt extended his hand toward Kenshi, but Kenshi just nodded back.

"Kenshi. Pleased to meet you, American. Sorry if I do not shake your hand, but I cannot see you."

"Yeah, blindfolds tend to have that effect on people. Take it off so that I can see your face."

The other man put a hand on Chacon's shoulder with a rustle of fabric and a slight clap audible only to Kenshi.

"I believe that this man is blind," his companion spoke up.

"Yes," he admitted. "I am blind, and apparently I am at a fighting tournament. I was spoken to by a woman who claims to be Special Forces, and a rather annoying movie star. Neither of them saw me arrive."

The second man sighed. "I think I can explain that. Chacon, go meet the rest of our fighters. They're around here somewhere."

He walked off quickly.

"Liu Kang of the Shaolin," the man said to Kenshi. "We are among the fighters of this tournament, a very special honor-"

"Shang Tsung is here," Kenshi interrupted. "I will have his head. Tell me where he is."

"Why do you want to kill him?" Liu Kang asked.

"I am blind, Liu Kang, but I was not born this way. Who do you think did this to me?" Kenshi asked through gritted teeth. "I have spent years retraining my senses to fight an opponent that I cannot see. And now that I am here, my task just got easier."

"Slow down, Kenshi. He is very powerful, and you must fight your way to the top in order to-"

Kenshi's hands shot out and grabbed Liu Kang's shoulders. His calm, reserved features warped in anger.

"Damn it! Don't you understand? I spent years preparing for this very moment, and now that it is here, you seek to deny me my revenge?" he screamed. Several fighters and guards turned their attention to the two men in the middle of the dojo.

"Listen to me," Liu Kang held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. "Do not challenge Shang Tsung. We need to work as a team to defeat him, don't you understand?

"How do you think you got here, huh? Tell me that you arrived by your own doing and I'll let you fight him. Tell me that Raiden was wrong and that you are not the best swordsman in Earthrealm!"

Kenshi was silent.

"Listen, we must work together in order to defeat that monster. You're not a lone wolf here, you're part of the team," Liu Kang hissed.

Kenshi nodded. "I understand. If I was brought here for a purpose, then it is my duty to serve that purpose. I was inducted by the Outworld Investigations Agency a little while ago, and in exchange for my services they gave me resources to track the man who called himself _Song_ down. Forgive me if I have been forward."

Liu Kang removed Kenshi's hands from his shoulders. "Let's… just pretend it didn't happen, okay? I'll see you around, swordsman."

Kenshi nodded and bowed his head before backing away and resuming his form.

Liu Kang took a deep breath and walked away from the vengeful blind man.

He saw Chacon waiting behind a pillar with his arms folded, completely invisible to Liu and Kenshi where he had been standing a moment ago.

Chacon said nothing as he joined Liu Kang in their walk across the dojo. Only when they were at least twenty meters away from Kenshi did he speak.

"Well, that almost gave me a heart attack. I thought he was going to flay you alive for a second there," Chacon said as they neared the next sparring room

"Me too. He is very impatient, and very much a captive of his anger," Liu Kang reasoned.

"Call it what you will, but I don't trust him," Chacon said curtly.

Liu Kang simply nodded. Chacon was a reasonable man, or at least he acted so in the time Liu had spent with him. He was cautious though, maybe even paranoid.

As soon as they crossed the threshold into the next room, a man wearing sunglasses bounced up to them, wearing a childish grin on his face. He wore a fine suit, a very fine suit in fact. The bowtie was loose around his collar and his jacket was left open.

"Hey, you guys see a hot blonde around here?" he asked.

The two exchanged a glance before answering, "No."

He sighed. "I swear to god I saw her somewhere when I came in. Real babe, too… Oh, sorry. Where did my manners run off to? Johnny Cage, pleased to meet you."

He shook Liu's hand a little too hard for his liking.

"Liu Kang of the Shaolin. And this is Mr. Chacon. Are you here for the tournament?"

"Am I here for the tournament? Hell yes I am here for the tournament. Best fighters in the world, right? What, did you think I was just going to sign autographs or something?" he asked with a wide grin.

Chacon simply nodded. "I thought you looked familiar. _Citizen Cage, _right?"

Johnny nodded back.

"Actually not a bad movie. I like the original a little better, but I can't complain."

Johnny ate it up. "Yeah, you know how it is with… Uh oh." His gaze averted to somewhere over Liu's shoulder. "The fuzz is here."

Chacon perked up. "Liu, don't turn around. Cage, can you tell me what he looks like?"

Johnny nodded, pretending to scratch his nose. "Well-muscled, he has a pair of guns and a baton or four on his belt, and he's wearing some kind of body armor. SWAT maybe?"

Chacon cursed under his breath. "I think I know who that is."

Liu turned to him and whispered. "Who?"

Just then, Liu saw a gun being pressed against Chacon's head.

MKMKMK

"Hey Stryker, how's it going?" I asked the man behind me with mock sincerity.

"Not bad. I've been busy lately, yourself?"

He kept the weapon flush against the back of my head.

"Can't complain. You know how it is, just trying to stay out of trouble."

"You kind of suck at it, Max."

"Yeah, I know. Counts for trying though, right?" I asked with a sarcastic grin. A moment later I felt cold steel around my wrists as they were clasped together behind my back, an uncomfortable yet familiar feeling.

"Not a chance. I never thought I would find you here. I heard that this is some sort of tournament or something." He sounded confused.

"Well, see here it is. This gentleman next to me can tell you all about it, right Liu?" I looked to Liu Kang.

"… Yes, it is. The best fighters from all over the world are… I'm sorry, what exactly is going on here?" He demanded with a puzzled look on his face.

"Liu Kang, meet Kurtis Stryker. An old friend… of sorts," I said from my uncomfortable position in Stryker's iron-fisted grip.

They shook hands.

"This man you've just met is a criminal, Liu Kang. We have a warrant out for his arrest for some particularly awful things he did in Africa a few years ago," he informed Liu. "He's a murderer, and a facetious little bastard."

I shook my head. "Come on, Kurtis. You don't really believe that." I turned back to a confused and hurt Liu Kang. "Liu, there were war crimes committed in Ethiopia six years ago, and the government needed a couple of necks to hang the charges from. So they made a plan to place the blame on me and four other men instead of owning up to it themselves."

"So he says." Stryker said flatly. "I'm going to take him in, and then we'll sort out this matter out in court."

"Stop!" a voice boomed from behind us. It sounded familiar.

Everyone turned to the tall man standing in the middle of the dojo.

"Nobody is going anywhere. Not yet, at least."

He approached the four of us, towering over even Johnny Cage. He radiated authority and wisdom, and even Stryker looked nervous.

"Kurtis Stryker, Johnny Cage, I see we have all met," he nodded. He turned to Stryker. "Officer, you can release him now."

"Hell no, he's not going anywhere without a pair of bracelets and my supervision," Stryker said assertively. "And who are you, anyway?"

"I am Lord Raiden, protector of Earthrealm," he said, bowing his covered head slightly.

"Right," Stryker laughed. "Now who are you really?"

"Tell me, officer. How did you get here?" he asked the simple question and folded his arms.

"I- I don't know. I have no idea where I am, or how I got here," he admitted. "I was suddenly just on the island, in the middle of the jungle."

Raiden extended a hand. "Would you like to know why?"

MKMKMK

"_Would you like to know why?"_

The question rang in the ears of Kitana. She watched from the edge of the staging area as Stryker released the man who called himself Chacon from a thin set of chains.

She crouched lower in the bushes as Raiden began to explain Mortal Kombat to Stryker, the police officer. He looked tough in his blue uniform and shined boots next to Chacon, who much leaner and an inch or two taller than his longtime pursuer.

She cocked her head quizzically. What was the device that Stryker had pressed against Chacon's head? Whatever it was invoked fear from the entire crowd. She made a mental note to ask Father about it at a later date.

_Could they be made to fight each other?_

Tensions seemed high between Earthrealm's fighters, specifically the cop and the fugitive. The swordsman was also a very cagey individual. He was blind, if she had heard correctly, and very much resented his condition.

Shang Tsung gave her the creeps. It wasn't too much of a stretch to believe that he blinded a man to increase his power in some way. Father found him most useful, and was the closest thing to an emissary that he had in Earthrealm.

To be the best swordsman while being blind was unheard of. He was definitely a force to be reckoned with. His sword seemed to be something of an artifact as well, a source of mystical power perhaps?

Kitana rubbed her temples. Too many questions and too few answers.

"This will be interesting," Jade whispered from her position next to her longtime friend in the weeds.

"Here, you handle the swordsman, and I will take care of the Americans. Both of them," Kitana felt her heart rate jump as she fantasized defeating the lawman and the criminal consecutively. Her fans suddenly gained weight in her boots, and she was tempted to finish the deed now.

It did not give her pleasure to do such things, but it was a service to her father, and that was what mattered. She felt a pang of guilt as the cop and the criminal shook hands in agreement. They had no idea what was coming, and Kitana was unsure that either of them deserved it.

"Are you sure, my Lady? The one took Shang Tsung's guard apart earlier today, and the other looks like he can fight just as well."

"I am sure Jade. We will take care of them tomorrow, when Raiden is least likely to suspect foul play."

Jade sighed behind her mask. "Just… be careful will you? The one has those mysterious weapons, and the other has a thing for breaking and dislocating bones-"

"I'll be fine Jade. When have I ever gotten in over my head?"

Jade shrugged. "Sparring matches, parties, weapons training-"

"Goodnight Jade."

"Nightclubs, galas, rock climbing…" Jade continued to rattle off memories, but Kitana was already gone.

**Happy Holidays all, and thank you for reading! I appreciated the story traffic but ahem,**

***Christopher Walken voice*** **We need more reviews! LOL, I couldn't resist.**

**Folks, have a very special holdiay season. Updates after Christmas!**


	4. Slient as the night

My eyes snapped open. I was staring at a blank wooden ceiling, and my heart was pounding so loud in my ears I couldn't hear anything else.

I took several deep breaths_. Just chill, Max. Just chill, it was only another nightmare._

The bed was damp with sweat, and the thin sheets were cooking me in the hot summer night. The feeling of a soft mattress under me was the only welcoming thing about this island that Shang Tsung supposedly owned. I wonder what happened to the previous owner…

I sat up and threw the covers off of me, leaning over the edge of the bed. I was wide awake now, and I fished in my cargo pockets for the compact flashlight I carry. I retrieved the black cylinder, which remained cool in the palm of my hand, and clicked the on button.

My room was generously sized, to say the least. In addition to the bed, which felt like a cloud under me, there was a dining table and chairs, a dresser, and a thin sofa that faced a fireplace on the west wall of the building. There was a broad glass door on the east end, which opened up to a spacious balcony and a reclining chair facing the ocean.

For such a bad guy, Shang Tsung pulled out all the stops when it came to sleeping arrangements, even for his enemies. But I didn't doubt for a second that there was a passageway into every one of our rooms somewhere. The sorcerer was a man with a plan, to say the least. I didn't doubt for a second that he would kill everyone on the island to serve his master.

I shook my head. This place gave me the creeps; hiding sinister motives behind very nice upholstery.

I walked out to the glass window and looked up. The moon was almost full, and I could see stars twinkling in the vast expanse beyond. Nice view, a lot better than from inside a city, where smog and streetlights crowded out the natural light from the stars.

Soft footsteps. Outside my door.

I wheeled around and ducked behind the sofa. I stayed there in a shooter's crouch, down on the balls of my feet, until they were gone.

Huh, no guards patrolled that hallway. I noticed that all of their routes take them around the Earthrealm fighters' barracks, some conveniently within earshot, but never inside of our quarters. So who was wandering the grounds at night?

Only one way to find out.

I quickly made my way in the dark toward the dresser, throwing on my t-shirt and dark blue dress shirt, which was somehow cleaned by Raiden when he healed me. I felt inside my pants, brushing the knife that I keep in my right hand pocket.

I sewed the sheath of the blade into the pocket of my pants a while back, and kept it deep in case I was searched. It was made of RDX plastic, a compound that was almost as strong as metal, but wouldn't show up on any weapons scanners. Up until about a year ago, I could take it through LAX unnoticed, but the recent use of X-ray scanners ruined that luxury. It contained no metal on any type. The only drawback was that it was only good for close range stabbing and slashing. I wouldn't want to get into a _proper_ knife fight with it.

I preferred a 3 ½ inch assisted spring-action blade myself, but Stryker confiscated that when I first ran into him in New York. He took my knife, and my Beretta, which he still carries as a backup weapon on the left side of his gunbelt. He also got a few other things from me, whether he wanted them or not.

I remembered the cold feeling of the hood of his cruiser on my check as he held me down and cuffed me. My face was slick with blood, sticking unnaturally to the surface of the metal car. I was hurting bad from the fight we had gotten into, and the place where his baton clubbed me in the face felt several sizes too big. I was a lung short from a kick to the ribs, and I remembered not even hearing my rights as he read them to me.

But he loosened up his grip when the first bracelet went on, and I whipped him in the face with the other end and broke free before he could get ahold of me again.

I stared at the closed door of the room he was sleeping in, which was conveniently next to mine. Our agreement had been simple: If I fought as part of Raiden's team in this tournament and didn't try to escape, then he would give me a running start when it was over.

I crept up to the door, pressing my ear up against the wood.

I listened. Nothing.

I slowly inched it open a little more and peeked outside. No guards. The hallway was almost pitch black save for a torch at either end, hanging from an iron slot on the wall. Those things played hell with my night vision, I thought as I inched the door shut behind me.

It shut with a quiet click, and I continued tip-toeing forward.

The floor was cold concrete on my bare feet, seemingly a single slab of stone covering the entire floor of the living space. My god, this place must have been built up around it. I suddenly remembered seeing the same flawless stone flooring in my room as well.

I walked on my tiptoes across the stone, and it shot cold prongs straight up my legs with every step.

I heard soft snoring from behind one of the doors. I wonder who it was.

I kept going until I reached the end of the narrow hallway. A thin veil flowed in the light breeze in the doorway; the only thing separating us from the cool summer night. It was translucent in the dim torchlight, and looked to be a cobweb from an old horror movie.

I silently brushed it aside and stepped into the night.

Where had the intruder gone?

More importantly, why had they came if they never opened any of the doors or took anything from the fighters?

Our barracks was across the clearing from the Outworld fighters' quarters, and the chow hall was evenly in between; an ornate structure surrounded by torches.

The night was eerie, and I shifted my weight so that I could feel the bump of the knife in my pocket once more. Why hadn't I brought shoes again? Because I'm an idiot that's why!

The circle of torches around the camp was suddenly broken. A single light went out in my peripheral vision.

_Contact left_

I wheeled to my left, expecting one of the torches to be out.

But it was flickering still, and a shadow disappeared into the tree line.

I took off after the figure. I looked down at the ground, sidestepping twigs and fallen leaves on my way over.

He was at least 30 meters away, and cautiously stepping into the thicket. He was trying to be discreet, and that was all I needed to know to confirm that he was up to no good.

I shuffled across the clearing and was within ten meters of the tree line before I lost him in the brush. He quite simply disappeared.

I crouched down on my hands and knees when the concrete under me feet gave way to the soft soil of the woods. I crawled under the thicket in front of me, which had been crushed against the trunk of a nearby tree.

Odd, considering that he could have just gone under it.

I crawled under the tangle of branches and emerged in waist-deep grass. It was thick and tall like beach grass, but nowhere near as sharp. I ran a finger over the edge of one of the blades, and it drew no blood. Interesting.

The man wasn't hard to track. He left a path of twisted and bent reeds in his wake. I could hear him stumbling in the trees ahead, less than 20 meters now. Why was he making so much noise? I didn't doubt for a second that he knew he was being followed, but I was hoping to catch him by surprise when I could get close enough.

I waded through the brush at a snail's pace, wincing when a twig snapped under my feet. The dirt between my toes was somehow relaxing to my weary feet, and I continued to follow for about five minutes.

Then he stopped moving.

I crouched down and ducked behind a tree that was close by, waiting for a hail of gunfire to come back in my direction. But there was nothing.

Not a sound.

Goddammit. He was probably waiting for me somewhere up ahead, waiting to spring at me from behind cover. A truly dangerous man could masquerade as a fool when he needed to, a friend of mine had once told me. And it appeared that he was right.

My mind flashed back to all of the horror movies I had seen as a kid, and all of the people who were killed in the woods by Freddy Krueger over the years.

I peered through the trees and saw his shadow again in the moonlight. He was crouching down, facing to my right and hanging his head close to the ground as if in defeat.

If I had a rifle, I could have dropped him like a deer. I didn't trust my blade for throwing, and I wasn't nearly close enough to bum rush him.

But I wanted him alive anyway, so I quit wishing for an M4 to appear in my waiting arms.

He rose up slowly after what looked to be a prayer, and continued on, veering right back to the staging area.

_What would a righteous man need to pray for at this time of night?_

I slid along the roots of the tree, my chin barely avoiding scraping the soil, and crawled after him. Maybe I could intercept him at some point along the way.

After a few minutes of agonizing army crawling, I found myself back on the stone floor of the clearing. My god, it had gotten colder since I had left.

I looked around. We weren't at the Earthrealm barracks anymore. I could see it some 50 meters away across the open ground on the opposite side of the encampment. The Outworld quarters loomed in front of me. Dragon carvings leapt out from all four corners of the buildings. Long, slender necks accentuated the impossibly sharp fangs and spikes along their necks.

What a creepy symbol.

I saw the man slowly emerge from the forest, and I got a better look at him.

He was definitely a _he_, and appeared to be wearing some sort of armor. My guess would be about six one or six two, and between 160 and 200 pounds.

He turned and looked at me. He looked _right_ at me.

I was on my belly on the ground, and staring up at him. He cocked his head to the side a little ways, seemingly like he was expecting something from me.

_Did I know this man? Why doesn't he acknowledge the fact that I am following him?_

He turned towards me, facing my direction in a sideways crouch. I saw a scabbard clipped to his back at an odd angle, and the handle of an old fashioned samurai sword protruding from the top.

Oh, no. I laid still on the ground when he took a step my direction.

And then another.

And another.

He continued his slow, relentless pace for what seemed to be an eternity, pausing not two meters from me. He seemed twice his height as he stood upright in front of me. But his head remained level, looking from side to side as if he was expecting something else to pop out at him. He stopped suddenlyas if he had heard something, and turned back around.

He tiptoes back the way he had come, and the expression on his face was blank.

_What the hell? He didn't even look down at me!_

What was his major malfunction? Was he-

And then it dawned on me.

This man was blind.

The blind man in the dojo. Japanese, dark hair, carried a Katana on his belt, and almost attacked Liu Kang in anger. He was here for Shang Tsung, I heard him say. And apparently he was making good on his promise that Shang Tsung would die.

I let him round the corner of the building before I let out the breath I had been holding.

_What was his name?_

Before I could ponder what he had introduced himself as, I heard the sound of quick footfalls on the other side of the barracks.

Oh, no.

MKMKMK

Kenshi put one foot in front of the other, making his way back to the side of the barracks.

Twenty paces back the way he had come, and another fifty forward to reach his destination, Sento, his prized sword, had told him.

The walk through the woods had been most uncomfortable, Kenshi thought as he crouched beside a stone pillar. He had been loud, and had gotten cut trampling through the thick vegetation. Sento chose to remain silent when Kenshi nearly lost his way. He had had to crouch down and listen for the footsteps of a patrolling sentry to get back on track.

But something had been following him. It was probably an animal, looking for food in the late hours of the night. He didn't need any enhanced senses to alert him to the fact that something had been stalking him, but it sure would have been nice to know what it was.

The footsteps started on the stone ground and followed him into the woods, which would have been odd for an animal. When Kenshi had doubled back a moment ago, he listened hard for any shallow breathing, accelerated heartbeats, or any other signs of movement. But no such luck.

He ran his fingers over the stone carving he was taking cover behind. Its edges were sharp, very sharp in fact. It was masterfully done, and must have taken months to complete. What a fine peace of craftsmanship, Kenshi thought as he rose up to his full height. It was an animal of some type, Kenshi predicted as he ran his fingers over what felt like a full set of pointed teeth.

He wished only that he could have seen it as well.

_Fifty paces forward._

He picked up his pace and accelerated to a full run on the open ground. To be caught here would mean death, and Kenshi rather valued his life.

He heard light footfalls behind him, much less hurried than his own, but pursuing him nonetheless. He knew it! He had a tail, and his tail was trying to close the distance between them.

He stopped and pressed his body against the bamboo wall of another building.

A single footstep, and then nothing else. They must have stopped by the Outworld barracks, waiting for Kenshi to make his next move before advancing again.

Whoever it was, they knew how to be quiet. And Kenshi couldn't afford to be compromised. Not now.

He broke into a run and rounded the corner of the building, feeling his way around the wall.

He crouched down on the other side of the small building and pressed himself against the wall. He drew Sento and waited two paces from the corner he had just come from.

_Come on, stalker. Make your move._

He waited, but heard nothing. The man had not followed.

Son of a bitch! Kenshi would cut him from stem to stirrup for the trouble he had caused him tonight.

But that man would have to wait. He had made too much noise already, and he still had a job to do here.

He rose up and followed Sento's silent instructions the rest of the way.

His sword was not of this world, he had long ago learned. It may have existed on the human plane, but was infused with power that Kenshi still did not understand. It made him faster when he fought, even when Sento was still on his back and not in his hands.

He was stronger, and his senses were like that of an eagle instead of a mere human. He could be beaten, that he knew, but he was more formidable now than he ever was when he could see.

He continued walking forward, calmly, listening for movement.

Shang Tsung had _stolen_ his eyesight a long time ago. Of course it wasn't a fair fight either, Kenshi remembered.

The sorcerer had gone by the name Song, and convinced an arrogant young swordsman that he needed a fine sword to become truly great. Like a fool, an arrogant fool, Kenshi followed him into a cave, where he saw Sento resting above a well, waiting to be claimed.

Song stepped aside and was happy to let Kenshi grab it. When he did, spirits of Kenshi's ancestors poured out of the deep well and overwhelmed him in moments. He remembered the pain of having his eyesight _ripped _out of him. Cold, steely fingers…

The pain had been unbearable, and Shang Tsung left the cavern a more dangerous enemy than before. Kenshi was left lying on the floor, doomed to spend his final moments in a state of panic.

But then Sento found him and willed him up onto his feet. Sento showed Kenshi the way out of the cave, and so began his quest for revenge. He spent almost a decade retraining his senses to compensate for his blindness, and almost as long learning Tai Chi and Judo from the U.S. Special Forces.

It had been a long journey for such a simple goal, and to think that it was within minutes of being accomplished energized him like never before. He could feel the adrenaline juicing in his veins, Sento hummed reassuringly in his hands, feeling the same excitement that Kenshi felt.

It was time to finish this.

MKMKMK

Kitana was sleeping peacefully when Kenshi entered her tent. He held Sento low by his side, as he made her way towards her large bed. Sento whispered her name into his ear, and Kenshi knew he was in the right place.

This was the perhaps the most important part of all.

Kenshi couldn't see how beautiful she was without her mask on. He was unable to see the way her long hair flowed over the pillow that she rested on. He could only hear her shallow breathing and smell traces of perfume as he got closer. He stepped gingerly on the soft carpet, not wanting to wake Outworld's princess until he was close enough to land a killing blow.

He neared her, tightening his grip on his prized sword, ready to drive it into her if she didn't comply.

Suddenly, she woke up.

Kenshi didn't know how he knew that she had awakened. There had been no sound other than a sharp inward breath, she said nothing, and Sento told him nothing, but somehow he could _feel _her eyes snap open and see the swordsman above her.

Kenshi didn't hesitate. He pinpointed the sound of her breath and aimed the sword just below that. He pressed it forward so that the end was flat against her neck.

"Now, princess. If you value your life, you will tell me where Shang Tsung sleeps. You will tell me how to infiltrate this place, and you will not tell anyone what happened afterward. Am I understood?" He verbalized the statement he had scripted on his was to her quarters.

She said nothing.

"You have three seconds to talk before I kill you and find another," Kenshi warned. "I am blind, but I am not ignorant."

He heard a rustling noise as she shifted her weight on the bed.

"Three-"

"Why do you want to kill Shang Tsung?" she asked. He voice was smooth, and sounded sweet in Kenshi's ears.

"I am blind, but I was not born this way," he said flatly. "Now you have two seconds."

"You," she said it simply, as if to prompt a question. Biding her time, Kenshi thought, she was quite adept at it.

"Sorry princess," Kenshi shook his head. It didn't feel right to kill an innocent woman. Perhaps he would knock her unconscious instead.

"You," she repeated, her voice speaking in a soft and soothing tone. "Have made a mistake."

In an instant Kenshi's sword was knocked aside, and Kitana slammed her heel into his Solar Plexus.

He staggered backward, out of breath. He fell out of the tent and hit the ground, hard.

He felt the cool concrete press against his cheek as he bit the ground. A metallic taste suddenly surfaced in his mouth. Not like this. He was not going to be killed by _her_.

He spat onto the ground in anger and sucked in a deep breath. He rose to his feet.

"You're going to die for that!" Kenshi yelled, swinging his katana in the air and taking up a fighting stance.

"To the death," Kitana declared, opening up her war fans. "But I promise you it won't be mine."

**Happy holidays everyone! Again, please read and gimme sone feedback on what you think.**

**Update coming soon...**


	5. First Greetings

Kitana swung first.

She tossed one of her war fans at the blind intruder, swinging her arm in a graceful arc, letting the weapon _fly_ at the apex.

_It was more of a delicate lobbing motion than anything_, she thought as she remembered her intense training with the weapons at the hands of a Tarkatan instructor, who knew very little about the improvised weapons himself. She remembered perfecting the motion in the dojo. She had then thrown the fans into the Tarkatan's chest, ending his incessant screaming and bickering.

The Steel Fans looked like a luxury item when she held them, but in truth the five pointed blades were almost as sharp as the ones present Baraka's arms. _Beautiful as they were deadly_.

After centuries of practice, Kitana was all but surgical with them. The blind man didn't stand a chance.

Kitana then watched in disbelief as Kenshi tucked and rolled under the fan and came towards her with his Katana raised. His expression was twisted with anger and his sword danced wildly in front of her.

Impossible!

Kitana jumped into the air towards Kenshi, his blade grazing her heel as she leapt gracefully over it, and spun in a full circle, coming back around with her bare feet raised.

Both of her feet connected with Kenshi's head in rapid succession, spinning him around in a full circle and throwing him onto the ground. She landed a little more gracefully herself.

"_A very beautiful kick,"_ Jade had once observed. _"If your Father had not spent so much time making you into a killer, you might have been the best dancer in Outworld."_

Kenshi spat a gob of red onto the stone floor before rising to his feet.

"You think I can't take a hit?" he yelled. A nasty pair of bruises were already forming on the right side of his firmly clenched jaw. He looked to be a quiet and peaceful man, but whatever semblance of sanity he had before the fight had been lost.

He was actually quite imposing, Kitana observed. He had a few inches and more than a few pounds on her. She silently prayed that this fight didn't go to the ground.

The man let out a war cry. A blue aura suddenly erupted from his body and launched itself at her. In the split second before it hit her, she saw his enraged face in the blue outline.

She yelped and held her hands in front of her face in self-defense, but the ghost turned and hit her with its shoulder, which felt more like concrete than muscle and bone.

Kitana flew backwards and hit the pavement headfirst. Her vision swam and colors danced in front of her eyes. Her sense of balance was gone, and she secretly wished that Jade had not chosen now to take a walk.

Kenshi stood above her in a fighting stance, waiting for her to get back up. His hands moved in a current as he shifted his weight back and forth on the balls of his feet. Here she was about to pass out, and this man was only getting started.

She willed herself onto her feet and raised her hands in front of her face, holding a fresh pair of fans. She secretly kept several pair in her boots at Jade's urging. She silently thanked her longtime friend and bodyguard.

She drew her fans and snapped them open in front of her. A brilliant array of blue fabric holding together five scary-sharp blades. If only the man could see it.

She rolled her neck to the side until she felt a pop, and turned back to face Kenshi, fluttering her long eyelashes at him. She shifted her weight, and then launched herself at Earthrealm bastard.

Kenshi was prepared for her attack.

Almost.

This time _she_ was the one who ducked under Kenshi's blow. He swung his Katana, which now had a purple hue around the edges of the blade, in an arc that would have sliced her nearly in half, but instead hit nothing but air.

She was so close to him now. She could feel his breathing on the back of her neck as she crouched close to him. Too close for him to attack with the sword again.

She crossed the fans in front of her chest and flung her arms open as if in exasperation. The reverse scissor swing with both fans drew lifeblood from the swordsman. She felt the hot red stuff on her face as she looked up. The man was flailing and struggling to maintain his footing

She rose up and threw a kick into Kenshi's chest, connecting her heel to the soft spot in between his ribs. She lifted the same foot up and hit his chin in the same motion, coming back and smacking his ribs on the way down.

The fantastic triple kick left Kenshi gasping for breath and doubled over. For a moment she thought he was a wild animal; frothing at the mouth and fighting to stay conscious. He kept his feet under him, but just barely. His knees were beginning to fold as his legs grew fatigued. She had him now.

Kitana folded one of her fans into a five-pointed dagger and stepped forward with a sharp stab, but Kenshi hit her in the jaw with a wild jump kick.

Kitana staggered but held her footing. Her face was numb, but she was more invigorated than ever.

She saw the blue aura around Kenshi's body again. That damned supernatural essence that would lead to an unstoppable attack. She braced for impact as the wraith separated itself from Kenshi and was guided by the swordsman's hand as it charged her.

He saw traits of Kenshi's in the ghost: His blindfold, the pad on his shoulder, and his mystical katana were the easiest to make out in the dark.

But the hit never came.

At once the blue menace dissipated, and she blinked several times to get her night vision back, for the magic aura had been very bright.

She saw two men on the ground in front of her.

She blinked again.

One was Kenshi, and the other had him pinned on the pavement, wrenching the swordsman's arm behind his back and holding it there, ready to yank it even further if need be.

"Lady Kitana!" she heard Jade's panicked voice to her left. She turned to see Jade in her pajamas and bounding towards the scene, staff in hand. She was furious, rightfully so in fact. It had been Kitana's idea that they should have different quarters. Jade asked her why when she first proposed it, and Kitana didn't have a good answer.

Foolish pride? A sense of independence, maybe? Kitana wasn't sure, but it felt good to sleep in peace without Father's watchful eye keeping tabs on her all of the time.

Well, it seemed peaceful until now.

"Kitana! What is happening here?" Jade demanded. Her close-cropped hair was a mess, and her bright green eyes were wide with a hundred different emotions at once. Fear, anger, guilt, they all swirled in her gorgeously bright pupils eyes in a moment.

"That man there, he attacked me in my sleep!" Kitana pointed furiously to Kenshi, who was still pinned on the ground.

"Well, I guess we know how that turned out for him," Jade said sardonically.

"Yeah," Kitana agreed. "He really _thought_ he was going to kill me for a second there, he must be insane."

"I'll bet you thought he was too," Jade laughed.

"Shut up, Jade."

"Now," Jade turned. "To whom do I owe the pleasure of beating senseless this evening?" she asked the two men on the ground.

The second man let Kenshi loose and hauled him to his feet. They were surprisingly similar in build and height, Kitana observed. The second man was nearly as tall as Kenshi, but leaner and not as heavily-armored.

"Hey," he said awkwardly. "Max- uh, Max Chacon," he stumbled with the words for a second before smiling at the two women.

"And Liu Kang," a third voice surprised all of them as the muscular fighter emerged from the shadows.

"The Shaolin?" Jade tilted her head to the side. "Ah, I didn't know you had a death wish as well."

"Hey!" the American interrupted. "We don't want any trouble here. I don't want to fight."

Kitana shook her head. "Too late. You should have thought about that _before_ coming to my room in the middle of the night and threatening me!"

Liu Kang shot a dark look at Kenshi upon hearing this. Kitana sensed that none of them knew that the others had been there before revealing themselves. Good, that would make them easier to take down.

Kenshi shrugged off Chacon's arm. "Shang Tsung is a murderer, and a thief. I had to know where he was, and you seemed like the logical choice for information. I was never going to kill you, princess-"

"Funny how that worked out, isn't it?" Kitana laughed.

"I am still a civilized man. I would never harm an innocent." He said the words firmly, yet they rang hollow in Kitana's ears. She guessed that he was trying to assuage himself as much as he was the rest of them.

"The fact of the matter is that no fighters are allowed outside of their quarters after dark," Jade pressed on. "Shang Tsung's orders."

Liu Kang held up his hands so that his empty palms faced the Edinians. "It was an honest misunderstanding, we'll just be going now."

Chacon nodded in agreement. "Look, sister. It's been a long day for everyone, so let's settle this tomorrow. It was a mistake, and we'll just be going back the way we came, eh? No more problems for you, and we all can get some sleep."

Kitana admired the other Earthrealmers' concern, but she was still cooling down from the fight. There were still traces of fire in her lungs.

"I challenge you," Kitana pointed to the American. "A fight to the death in Mortal Kombat. Right here, right now."

He froze for a second, contemplating this. "Hey, look, I don't want any trouble. It'll take me and Liu Kang to get Kenshi back to the barracks, so I'm booked for the night. How about another time?"

Kitana was furious at his blatant disregard for her challenge. "You can't just walk away from this! You can't pretend like you're somehow above it!"

His expression suddenly went dark. She knew she had struck a nerve.

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Those men on the beach were not your first," Kitana added. "You hide under the guise of non-violence to mask your impotence."

He took a step forward, but Liu Kang held him back.

"All fighters have the right to turn down a challenge," Liu Kang repeated the rules back to them. "And this exchange is over."

The three humans retreated slowly; Chacon and Liu Kang half-carrying Kenshi as they went.

Chacon turned and looked back at Kitana. She couldn't see the expression on his face, but the fact that he gazed back at all told her enough.

They held their ground until the three men disappeared inside the Earthrealm barracks.

Jade turned to her friend. "Now it's decided, it's too dangerous for you to sleep unprotected here. He almost killed you."

Kitana raised a hand in protest, but Jade cut her off.

"No, princess. If it pleases the court, which it does, then I'll be staying a little closer in proximity to you now than I have in the past," Jade said, literally putting her foot down on the ground and holding a firm stance.

Kitana knew it was hopeless to try and convince her otherwise, so she changed topics.

"That man who was wounded, did you see the blindfold on his face?" she asked Jade as they began to walk back to their quarters.

"Yes. He is a swordsman, yet he is unable to see? That is quite a feat," Jade nodded, no doubt already thinking ahead about how to beat him.

"But don't underestimate him," Kitana warned. "He is very dangerous, and he is on a quest for vengeance.

"He didn't give me the full story at sword point, but he told me that he was blind, and that he was not born with that condition," Kitana explained. "Shang Tsung himself must have blinded him, and now Kenshi wants payback."

"Well, then. Shang Tsung will have to take caution from now on," Jade said boldly. "He must know that Kenshi is here, and he has probably taken precautions already. After all, this is his island, and he is omnipotent within the borders of this place."

"Yes. Tomorrow I'll deal with the American, and this Kenshi," Kitana decided as they crossed the threshold of the sleeping quarters.

"I'll take the Shaolin, unless you want him to yourself," Jade giggled. She had seen Kitana steal a glance at the attractive monk, no doubt.

"That's not funny," Kitana shot back, but Jade kept laughing quietly. Kitana sighed.

"Jade, please do kill him. Death must follow Mortal Kombat, Father's orders."


	6. Round One

Liu Kang's knocking on my door shook me out of my slumber.

Mornings always come early, I growled inwardly as I rolled over. There have been nights when I have prayed that morning could be fashionably late once in a while, but apparently that's too much to ask.

The bed was the softest I had slept in to date. The mattress was thick enough so that the boards didn't bulge upward against my stomach when I buried my tired head into it late last night.

I can say that after patching up a pissed off Kenshi, whose pride was cut deeper than his wounds, and a curt nod to Liu Kang, I passed out before I knew what happened. Liu Kang had been tailing _me _in the woods last night when I myself was following Kenshi_, _and I didn't pick up on it until he revealed himself when I broke up the fight between Kenshi and the Wonder Twins.

I rolled out of bed after a moment, shirtless, and answered the door.

Liu Kang was waiting outside, also shirtless. Unlike me, he looked wide awake and ready for action. His face was bright and there were no bags under his eyes; no sign at all that he had gotten very little sleep the night before. I don't know how he did it, but if we all lived through this I would have to ask him.

"So, you see what we're up against now." I couldn't tell if it was a question or a statement coming from the Shaolin.

"Yeah, I saw something last night. I saw one of our fighters almost get killed by a very gorgeous young woman with a pair of fans with sharpened blades. I can also see that we're not exactly a team around here," I answered loudly, turning towards Kenshi as he passed us in the hallway. His expression was unreadable, and he seemed not to take any notice of my remark.

"Raiden does his best to keep our fighters together," Liu Kang said defensively. "He is just one being though, and he can only do so much at a time."

I held up my hands. "Whoa, Liu. I didn't mean any offense to Raiden. What I meant is that I'm concerned with guys like Kenshi. He is an incredible fighter, but his anger might…" I stopped short, realizing that Kenshi might still be within earshot. "somehow impair him."

Liu laughed a little. "I know what you mean, we have to look out for each other. But today though, things start getting ugly."

I shrugged. "So let the games begin. I've got your back, Liu."

He nodded. "I know you do, but there are some things you must know before you fight today."

"I'm listening."

"First, don't expect any of them to fight fair. They are from another realm, a place that gives them powers that you might not yet understand. They have certain attacks that would have been impossible to do here in Earthrealm, even with intense conditioning-"

"Like that fancy kick that the woman last night did to poor Kenshi," I finished.

"Yes, but even more deadly inside the arena. There will be two fights today, you and me against two of Shang Tsung's men. We don't know who they are, but expect them to be very powerful. They have all spent years studying the deadly arts," he informed me.

I nodded. "I understand, and thank you by the way. But let's back up, who were the two people last night? The women, I mean. They both had long dark hair, one had the fans and the other one had green eyes and what looked to be a Kali stick in her hand."

Liu Kang shook his head. "They are… interesting. They are both assassins for the Emperor, loaned to Shang Tsung for the tournament."

"Oh," I snapped my fingers as it clicked. "They're fighters too."

"Well, actually not," he admitted. "Raiden warned me about them. They are here for the sole purpose of ensuring Shang Tsung's victory. They do fight in the tournament, but they will attack you and kill you in an instant if Shang Tsung orders them too. They have trained for this for years."

"What?" I demanded in a voice slightly higher pitched than normal. "He can't do that, can he?"

"Yes, actually. Like I said, don't expect this to be a fair contest," he sighed as we both no doubt imagined being attacked out of nowhere by a beautiful woman. If I didn't know that she could actually kill me, that thought might have been intriguing in a good way.

"If you ever find yourself in a fair fight, then you've probably done something wrong," I laughed back at him. My personal mantra. I had first heard it in Ranger School many years ago, and again at the beginning of my Krav Maga training, which I had been doing intermittently for seven years at any place I could find.

My advantage was that I was a lean 6'0" tall, and that I didn't look as physically imposing as Liu Kang or Raiden. My slim diet, which I can thank my merciless pursuer Stryker for, keeps me in shape.

I have been studying Krav Maga; an Israeli close combat system that mixes several brutal martial arts systems into a formidable close range fighting method, for a while now. More recently, I had spent time in Europe learning streetfighting techniques from various practitioners in the Western half of the continent. KFM, a Spanish streetfighting method, Russian Sambo are a molten pair of freestyle forms, and my personal favorites.

Besides that, a hellish training course I signed up for in the Philippines taught me Kali or Erskrima, which is another story altogether.

Liu Kang stretched. "Yes, I am ready to fight. You?"

I clapped my hands together. "Let's make it happen."

MKMKMK

The rest of the fighters were already up and in the middle of morning exercises when Liu and I joined them. A newcomer who Liu identified as Sonya Blade was in the middle of a sparring match with Johnny Cage.

And by sparring match, I mean she had him in an armbar on the ground, threatening to rip his arm off by pulling excessively on it with her legs and hands while holding his body down with her feet.

He tapped the mat furiously. "Jesus, you got me! I tapped out like five minutes ago," he was fuming, cursing under his breath as he got up. His sunglasses were doing their best to hang onto his face at an awkward angle, no doubt from taking a punch or three from Sonya.

He was shirtless, showing off a pale, muscular set of abs and arms. His black karate pants were pulled up to his stomach, but was covered up by a broad white belt with the word _CAGE_ etched in gold under his belly button.

"Hey, Blade! Go easy on Hollywood," Stryker shouted from my left. He smiled and took a generous pull from his water bottle. "He may be a tool but he's one hell of a fighter!"

"Hey," Johnny Cage grunted. "I heard that."

He turned back to working on the heavy bag in full combat gear, pistols and all. The silver handgrip on one of his guns winked at me as he turned around and resumed beating the daylights out of the bag.

He used his fists, feet, knees, and even his baton once or twice; going at the thing like it had insulted his mother.

I would have been much more impressed if I didn't know that he was picturing my face on the bag, and if I hadn't known that _that _was the treatment I would get if I tried to run.

Johnny cage threw a maroon shirt over his shoulders and approached us with a swagger that almost matched his ego's ridiculous size.

"Hey, that chick over there is Special Forces. Would you believe it?" he asked both of us at once, almost hitting me in the face with some excessive hand motions.

He turned to me and hit me playfully on the shoulder with a closed fist. "Hey, I heard you two were out last night with some very attractive somebody's," he smiled with a set of perfect teeth and nodded suggestively. "Are they taken? Or do they have friends? If so-"

"They are not here to stand around and look pretty," Liu Kang warned in a serious voice. "They are here to kill you once you put your guard down."

Johnny made a low purring sound. "Sounds like my type of girl."

I put my hand on his shoulder. "Sounds like you need something more productive to do than get your ass kicked. Liu, could you give us a minute please?"

He grunted with something between sarcasm and disgust and walked away.

Johnny and I made our way past Stryker, who gave me a look as we passed.

"So, what's up? I don't need a pep talk, so…" he started.

"No, what you need is to be a team player here. Liu, Kenshi, and me have come to an understanding that we have each other's backs when the fighting starts," I said in a low voice as I made my way to an assortment of weapons mounted on a wall.

Weapons as far as the eye could see. A spiked dragon head was in the middle, surrounded by a symmetrical pair of spears, one on each side of the symbol. The weapons grew more complex the farther away from the stone carving we got. Nun chucks that were a creamy shade of white were mounted next to a wooden pike with sharpened ends that almost disappeared at the very tip. I'll bet that I could have dropped and envelope over it and it would slice the thing in two as it fell. For a madman, Shang Tsung had so far impressed me with the condition of his island.

I was so intrigued that I almost missed Johnny's answer.

"This is a tournament, bro. I didn't know that there were teams around here. The whole point is to prove that you are the best, and you have to go that road alone, my man," he came as close to an apology as his ego could muster, and in some weird way I appreciated that.

"Look, Cage. I kinda like you, and if all of the stunts you did in those movies were real after all, then you deserve to be here just like the rest of us. But please, Shang Tsung won't pit us against each other in fights, and I'm not asking you to do anything that would endanger your life..

"I just need you to, you know," I lowered my voice to a whisper and he leaned in. "Pass along any information you might overhear from somebody. Guards, janitors, pool boys, or whatever. If we share some info every once in a while, it'll give us a better chance at winning."

He understood. "Alright, boyo, I'll share. Just make sure you remember that once the fights start coming and people start killing one another, all bets are off."

I understood him. More than he could know.

He walked away and I felt a slight sense of accomplishment. I turned back to the assortment of weapons and spotted something I could use.

A kali stick. A 26" long piece of treated bamboo. It absorbed the impact of a hit by vibrating in the wielder's hand, and was nearly impossible to break with anything lighter than an SUV.

I lifted the fine piece of wood and tossed it end over end a couple of times, getting a solid feel for the weapon. It was deceivingly simple, but to an experienced user, it was an extension of the arm that could reach out a lot farther and hit a lot harder that a closed fist.

"That's what I'm talking about," I laughed as I admired the craftsmanship.

Johnny Cage was perplexed. "A stick? Really? Unless your into Eskrima or Kali-"

"Which I am," I cut him off.

"-Then it can really do some damage," nodded in approval. "Well, I have to get back to my workout. See you out there."

"Yup," I said simply. I didn't watch him leave, but I could hear grunting as he continued his workout.

Today would be a baptism by fire for all of us. If I could handle the first round without dying, then the second should be easy enough.

I reluctantly set the stick down on the floor beside me and dropped into push up position. I could already hear my drill instructor barking at me as I began.

MKMKMK

Seeing Shang Tsung up there on his throne, clad in a flowing emerald robe which was nearly as long as his wiry beard, really gave me the chills.

It was his eyes. Something was wrong with them. What exactly I couldn't explain, but the way he glared at me and my kind was oddly hypocritical. If he was born here, why did he serve another master? How could he look condescendingly down on the newest generation of fighters like that?

He was an ugly old fart, and he sent chills up my spine when he made eye contact with me.

"Welcome kombatants!" he rasped. "In the coming weeks my island will be your battleground. You will face each other in the most glorious tournament your realm has ever seen. Mortal Kombat."

The way the words slithered out of his mouth made me shiver and sweat in the same moment. This was no doubt the desired effect, I realized as I looked around. There were a lot of fighters on our team.

I had already met Kenshi, Liu Kang, and Johnny Cage. Sonya had just arrived, and Stryker I knew all too well. The others were a Native American Shaman named Nightwolf, a ninja in a blue costume who called himself Sub Zero, and Raiden, who wasn't participating for some reason.

I couldn't help but feel small standing beside them. But we were on the same team, and their laughably-stoic stares were all directed at Shang Tsung, as was mine.

Shang Tsung reminded me of a snake. He was thin and wiry; even with his robe I could see his bony shoulders.

"The first fight," he began slowly, like a game show host. He knew that we were all tense, and we could barely contain ourselves as he continued slowly and deliberately.

All eyes were on him. Lives were hanging on his next word.

Whoever was chosen would be the first to eliminate an adversary, or be the first to be eliminated himself. That would set a precedent for every fight from here onward: Whenever one of us stepped into the ring, we would remember this moment.

The sun was setting, with the last fragments of sunlight peeking over Shang Tsung's grandstand. The air was still, and my mind was clear.

"Johnny Cage!" he yelled. "Versus Reptile!"

Cage was standing tall beside me, and perked up at the sound of his name, pretending like he wasn't listening. He brushed off his jacket and stepped forward proudly.

"Reptile, huh?" Johnny rolled his shoulders and walked into the wide expanse between us and Shang Tsung's grandstand. "He doesn't sound so tough."

No sooner had the words escaped his mouth than he froze in place, almost mid step. He whispered something and tilted his head to the left. I turned and looked in the direction he was facing, and I saw Shang Tsung's lips curve into a wicked smile.

Oh, shit.

He lowered his expensive sunglasses onto the bridge of his nose and peeked over the edge cautiously.

_What is he doing? Where's Reptile?_

In the next moment, Johnny's head rocked violently to the left and his expensive sunglasses took a ride through the air and hit the pavement in front of my feet.

His stomach suddenly caved in and he grunted in pain. He doubled over before in pain being struck again. He spat a red streak onto the pavement and reeled backward.

_What in god's name had hit him?_

That was probably what he was asking for himself too. His eyes darted wildly from side to side, trying to get a bead on an attacker. His normal cool, charismatic aura had shattered, and panic was as clear as day on his face.

He felt helpless now as he looked for any sign of movement. He gasped for breath, and his bare chest was already coated in sweat.

Suddenly Johnny Cage fell backward again, defying physics as I knew them and flying through the air in an instant, seemingly without any particular reason.

He hit the ground face first and groaned. He had been played, and he knew it. But he couldn't lose.

He pushed himself off the ground and vaulted onto his feet. His hands and forearms were covered in white tape, which flapped and danced as he put up his fists, ready for more. His jaw was set, and the Johnny Cage I thought I knew was gone.

"Johnny!" Raiden yelled. "Forceball, now! You need to find him!"

Johnny's eyes suddenly lit up a child at Christmas.

He drew back his right arm and an orb of energy suddenly appeared in the crook of his elbow. He bended his knees and dropped down into a half-crouch as the energy glowed bright green in the fading light. The bright green orb grew to be the size of a basketball in an instant, swelling with energy and becoming saturated with a substance that I had never seen.

I watched in awe as he threw the ball underhanded and let it sail upward in the air, coming back down toward the ground in an arcing motion. The thing looked to be made of jello, but make a sickening crack when it found its invisible target.

The scream of whatever had suddenly manifested itself in front of Johnny Cage resembled water pushing its way through an old pipe. A harsh, raspy, gurgling noise pushed out of the voice box and spat out of the thing's mouth.

It was green, a faded, natural camouflage that covered its entire body.

A pair of wooden shin guards were strapped tightly to his ankles with what appeared to be black masking tape. He wore a tight mask, yet this could not hide the fact that he looked like a monster. The front of a mask was curved into the sinister shape of snarling lips pressed together and painted black. Yellow claws burst out of his bony, three-toed feet. The armor strapped to his chest seemed to meld with his scaly skin, and it appeared that he had been born with this outfit on.

_A killer born._

I watched as the thing cupped its hands together and formed its own ball of energy. But instead of a glowing, gelatinous substance, it looked like a giant ball of snot. Bubbles and a current of liquid flowed within the massive object as it swelled up. Green residue dripped onto the ground and burned the concrete below. The creature's eyes lit up as it read the look of horror on Johnny's face.

And it let the ball loose at Johnny's head.

Johnny ducked the massive projectile, tucking and rolling on the pavement to get closer to the abomination. He came up almost underneath the creature, looking up at the lean, green monster.

Reptile snarled and kicked Johnny in the shin. Johnny reeled and stepped backward, beating down a straight jab with his forearm as he backed up, trying to avoid another onslaught.

Reptile hocked and spit something awful at Cage, but Johnny was too fast.

Instead of ducking, he dropped and did the splits, a move that I had never seen a grown man accomplish without serious injury, and slammed a closed fist into Reptile's crotch.

He may not have been a man, but he screamed like one.

Johnny didn't let up. He fired off two more blows into Reptile's junk while he was down, causing Reptile an unbearable amount of pain. I winced and adjusted my belt from where I was standing.

Reptile screamed again and went down on all fours. Suddenly Johnny was back on his feet, revitalized. He leapt in the air and came down on Reptile's bony spine with his elbow, hard.

Whatever was in Reptile's back exploded with the noise of a gunshot as it cracked. Cage hadn't broken his back, but the noise alone told me that he would probably never recover.

Johnny threw a kick into Reptile's exposed head, and then another, and then another. Reptile's head rocked from side to side as Johnny slapped it with his feet, showing off an incredible feat of flexibility and fighting prowess.

Finally Reptile fell to the ground, utterly beaten.

Cage was seething, and covered in both red and green blood, mixed together in a brown substance that stained Johnny's black pants and bare chest.

He loomed over the animal, looking at the humanoid as it lie in agony on the ground.

He grabbed Reptile by his chest plate and hauled him to his feet, looking the monster in the eye. Only this time Reptile was the one who was terrified.

Cage reeled back and slammed a closed fist into his opponent's jaw, and Reptile was still. His head was hanging limp and his arms dangled helplessly from his sides.

_Out cold._

Cage released him, and Reptile hit the deck one final time.

Johnny put his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.

"You," he panted at his unconscious opponent. "Got Caged."

"Finish him!" Shang Tsung ordered from his throne. "Quickly."

Johnny turned to him in disbelief. "You kidding me? What the hell was that? He just turned invisible on me when I got into the ring. That's cheating!"

He spoke in between breaths, outraged.

"That is Mortal Kombat. Reptile spent many years training in the art of stealth, it is only fair that he should be able to use it."

"No," Raiden's deep, booming voice erupted from beside Nightwolf. "He can turn invisible, Sorcerer. But alone he is not able to maintain the guise without a disturbance in the air around him. That's foul play!"

He raised his voice to a yell, and Snag Tsung yelled back.

"How dare you challenge me, Raiden! The Elder Gods remain silent, do they not? If you seek to change the rules of play, then I suggest you do so at a later date." He turned back to the arena. "Johnny Cage wins!"

Cage tried to raise his arms for applause, but the strength wasn't there. They fell limp by his sides, and the rest of him threatened to do the same.

Liu Kang and I each took one of his arms as he gave us his account of the fight.

"Impossible. It felt like I got hit in the face by a dumptruck!" he complained.

"Shang Tsung gave him a boost before the battle, no doubt," Liu Kang reasoned. "I wouldn't put anything past him."

"Look at here," he stammered and held up his forearm. "Something cracked when I blocked his jab, and that shouldn't have happened."

"He was an ugly, cheating little bastard, but you did good," I said as we set him down on a waist-high wall on our side of the arena.

"Thanks, I'm just gonna sit for a minute here, if ya don't mind," he spoke like he was on the verge of passing out.

Nightwolf approached and set a hand on my shoulder. "I'll see to him."

I nodded a silent thanks and rejoined the rest of the group.

"The next match will be," Shang Tsung caught all of us off guard when he resumed announcing. The argument must have been over.

"Max Chacon!" My name rolled off his tongue in a strange fashion, like it was a foreign word to him.

"Versus Kano!" he yelled as a gruff-looking man with what appeared to be a prosthetic eye entered the ring laughing. But his laughing isn't what disturbed me. The pair of bowie knifes on his waist caught my eye.

Well, at least he didn't have a gun, right?

I could hear the Special Forces woman, Sonya, protesting from within the crowd behind me. Whatever she wanted would have to wait.

I entered the ring and drew my Kali stick from its place in my belt and held it down beside my waist.

"Fight!"

Here we go again.


	7. Round Two

Now if I thought Kano was ugly when I saw him from afar, I had another thing coming when he got up close.

An unshaven beard grew in uneven patches all over his face. His teeth were a slick coat of yellow, and when he smiled I could see several teeth chipped and broken, clinging to the roof of his mouth by a thread.

His jaw was square and his face wide set, naturally in such a way. His mouth hung open slightly, like a dog frothing with starvation. He looked _hungry_ almost, like food was no longer enough for him and now he fed on violence.

And he smelled awful. The stench that comes from a trash bin behind a liquor store would have flinched at him. I smelled alcohol on his breath, wafting toward me ever so slowly in the light evening breeze.

His aura itself was somehow intoxicating. He gave me the creeps, even more so than Reptile did. But Reptile was a good fighter, or he was before Johnny Cage had his way with him.

Reptile was a representative of whatever sect of the place called Outworld he was from, an emissary. The best of the best, if what Raiden said about the stakes of this tournament was true.

But Kano was not in any way what Raiden had described as one of our enemies. He had the walk of a bitter outcast, and his good, non-robotic eye seemed to gaze at me like he was window shopping, sizing up my value before going in.

He stepped slowly, deliberately, toward me. His heavy combat boots looked military issue, and probably were at one point.

"Ah, Shang Tsung. You're so kind, giving me a fresh piece of meat to warm up on," he laughed like a smoker with a gruff Australian accent at the sorcerer, who remained silent.

I turned my head to the side, utterly confused. Something was wrong with this picture.

"You… are a human," I gasped. You're supposed to be fighting for _us_, not him!"

"Ah, but there my boy we have reached a bit of an impasse. See you may fight because you actually believe that you can save the world or some garbage. You think you can _change_ something as a fighter in a simple contest, a grunt if you will. Good luck with that.

"But me? Nah, I prefer a steady paycheck to dying for a lost cause. And believe me, you are _so_ lost."

I rolled my shoulders. "We'll see about that now, won't we?"

"You got that right," he drew one of his blades, running his tongue along the edge in a grotesque fashion. "You'll see firsthand as I spill your guts out of your chest right in front of you!"

He took a step towards me, almost within striking distance.

I held up my eskrima stick, a treated shaft of bamboo, and mirrored his stance.

"You shouldn't have come at all," he whispered.

"Fight!" Shang Tsung's gravelly voice was loud and clear from his throne up in the stands.

But the sorcerer was at the back of my mind now. All that mattered was this man, or what was left of one, standing in front of me, with a wicked knife in his hand.

_He is more machine now than man, twisted and evil._ The quote from Star Wars couldn't have fit Kano better if it had been tailored.

We both got onto the balls of our feet and waited for the other to make a move. I looked into his good eye and watched his pupil as it widened in anticipation. My heart rate steadily increased, and I slowed my breathing down. This was it.

Then he spit at me.

I was expecting anything but that from him. An underhanded shot or a throw of his knife maybe, but that gob of spit hitting me in the eyes caught me completely off guard.

I should have been expecting it, but I wasn't. And I wasn't fast enough to do anything about it.

A quick jab hit rocked my jaw, and I reeled backward, temporarily blinded and in pain. I tasted blood in my mouth.

He jumped and threw a kick into my chest, and the heel of his heavy boot connected with my diaphragm. Perfect kick.

I spat something awful onto the pavement as the air rushed out of my lungs. I staggered backward, struggling to keep the bottoms of my feet on the ground as black dots clouded around my vision. Things started to blur in front of me, and the world suddenly tilted to the left, quite drastically so.

Kano was laughing. He knew he had me.

The man then bent down and tucked into a ball in front of me. What the hell was that supposed to do?

I got the answer less than five seconds later he jumped up, still tucked into a tight position like that of a diver, and sailed straight at me.

The bowling-ball shaped whatever-the-hell-that-was hit me right in the freaking gut, and put me on the ground.

I dropped my stick, and my head rolled to the side as I tried to suck in air. My chest was on fire, and it was all I could do to keep breathing when he climbed on top of me, knife in hand. He was on his knees above me, and I was on the verge of blacking out right in front of him.

"That's what you get for underestimating me, boy," he laughed and lowered the knife. I could see it looming closer and closer, the blade increasing in size and sharpness by the second.

Like an artist with his work, Kano was in no hurry. He would make it painful, a warning to all other fighters that they would receive an equally gruesome treatment.

But I couldn't let him take me. Not yet.

I could imagine Lucifer rubbing his hands together, waiting for me to fall into his arms when Kano took me. But I couldn't go to hell. As long as my arms could move and my mind could think I could fight to forestall my judgment.

For it wasn't the lakes of fire and the gruesome fact that god has forgotten about me that made me so afraid of death.

It was the fact that it would last forever that kept me up nights.

_Come on, Max. Will your body to cooperate. Every minute of training you have ever done has come down to this._

But my arms refused to budge, and my breathing was shallow, and growing more so by the second.

_Not yet, Max._

I grabbed his right arm with both of mine, wrapping my own right arm around so that it was behind his elbow, and pulled it across my chest, driving the knife into the pavement _thisclose_ to my shoulder.

It was a natural motion, and required almost no strength on my part.

He was now lying on his belly on top of me, his jaw pressed up against my right shoulder instead of up on his knees above me.

He was off balance.

I pulled my legs out from under him and rolled to the side, slipping free of his grasp before he could take a swing with the knife.

He growled and swung himself back onto his feet.

"Alright, let's try this again," I said as I rocked from side to side, ready for more.

He hissed at me like a wild animal, and made his move.

And I made mine.

He swung wide with the knife, and I grabbed his hand, wrapping my open palm over his. Now I had control of his knife arm, rendering him defenseless. I stepped into his stance and slammed a fist into his side, connecting with his delicate floating ribs.

He grunted as I hammered him again in the small of his back, my flat palm smashing the soft tissue in his right side into his kidney below.

I hit him again in the same area with an open palm when I heard him draw his second knife. The sound of metal sliding past his loose sheath was unmistakable.

I pushed him away and stepped back, letting his wild swing miss me entirely.

I looked around and grabbed my fighting stick off of the ground where I had dropped it, twirling it in my hand as I circled him.

He was doubled over in pain, but he still had a knife in each hand. That alone was grounds for me not to get any closer.

He raised himself up to his full height and cracked his neck one way, and then the other.

"You think you can take me?" he demanded, laughing through the intense pain. He pounded his chest and raised both knives against me. "I'm gonna enjoy spilling your guts all over this arena."

He flipped one of the knives, catching it by the blade before tossing it at me.

I dived to the side, narrowly avoiding the projectile as it whizzed through the air just above my ear. My shoulder hit the ground, and I rolled instinctively to protect myself from injury and emerge back on my feet.

Kano closed the distance between us, flipping the knife end over end in his hand as he approached. He was smiling, and the orb that replaced his eye rotated as he sized me up, already thinking of a creative way to kill me.

To his surprise, I lunged first.

I "flipped" the kali stick over in my hand, pivoting with my elbow for a long-range, overhanded swing. It required almost no effort, but did an amazing amount of damage when executed properly.

The stick vibrated violently in my hand as it connected with his wrist. The treated wood was nearly unbreakable, and vibrated to distribute the force of the impact along the entire length of the shaft. If my grip had been any tighter, I might have hurt my own hand as well.

He yelped, and I hammered him in the skull in the same motion, a tight arc that made vibrated with a satisfying cadence when it connected with the side of his head. I swung again at close range, smacking his artificial eye with the end of the weapon.

He tried to step back, but I had ahold of his wrist with a death grip. I began to twist it violently when he started pulling back, trying to regain a sense of balance.

I hit him again and again, breaking his nose and spattering blood all over his face. He was barely conscious and losing his will to fight, and I was regaining mine.

Hot electricity flowed through my veins. The feeling of superiority washed over me. It was dangerous, and the reason I was able to get away from him in the first place, but the wild part of me liked it.

I pulled his arm towards me, putting it into a straight bar across my chest while twisting his wrist with all of my might.

The knife fell out of my view, and somewhere the very back of my mind I heard it clatter on the floor.

I turned the stick and drove the bottom end of the shaft into his ribs.

He went on his knees, holding his side and groaning in pain.

He threw a wild punch at my crotch with his left hand, but he was too slow.

I stepped to the side and launched a foot into his exposed solar plexus. I knew the moment I had hit him that he was finished. He was in terrible pain, but he would recover in a relatively short time if I stopped now.

He went face first on the ground, moaning in pain.

I backed away quickly before I could hit him again. I knew that if I continued, I would never stop.

I kept walking backward until a broad set of arms caught me.

"Steady your heart, Max Chacon. You have won," Raiden's calming voice spoke into my ear. He patted me on the shoulder gently. "You have done well, but this fight is over."

He knew about my wild side, the side that wanted to keep going and kill Kano out of bloodlust. It was there in that moment, the ruthless killer inside that wanted to murder him for what he tried to do. The sight of his crooked smile of utter pleasure as he was about to carve me with his knife was in the forefront off my mind. I remembered it, and the overwhelming feeling of wanting to use the hands that god had given me to break him nearly consumed me.

But he believed in the good in me as well. He saw that inside I was capable of being better than that.

_The essence of Mortal Kombat is not death, but life._

I turned and nodded. "Thank you."

"Finish him!" Shang Tsung was on his feet and screaming. He was enraged that I had defeated Kano, but even more enraged that Kano had failed. And he wanted me to finish Kano for him, spare him the trouble.

"No," I said simply. I shook my head.

Shang Tsung fell back into his throne, pretending not to be exasperated with the outcome of the fights.

My head throbbed and it hurt to take in a breath, but I was lucky to be alive.

"Sucks, doesn't it?" he laughed. He had taken an even worse beating that I had, but in that moment we were brothers. We had been baptized by fire in the first round of Mortal Kombat.

The crowd of Earthrealm warriors all walked away, leaving the group of monks and guards watch Kano get picked up and carried out of the arena.

I joined the crowd on its way back to the barracks.

Johnny began recounting his story in an overdramatized voice, enjoying every second of it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I got friggen _hammered _by some dude who I can't even see. He's all punching and kicking and throwing shit, and I have no clue where he is-"

"Welcome to my world," Kenshi joked. It was the first time I had seen him smile.

"Shut up, dude. You could hear a pin drop in the middle of a subway station!" Johnny protested. "You don't _need_ to see, and I freaking do!"

Liu Kang patted Johnny on the shoulder. "No, Johnny. I think the real problem for you if that your fight with Reptile wasn't choreographed beforehand."

Everyone laughed, even Raiden.

A few more jabs were taken at the actor before Raiden addressed the group.

"Excellent work, both of you. But this tournament has only just begun, and I need you all at the top of your game. Tomorrow all of you save Johnny and Chacon will see action against Shang Tsung's fighters. You must be prepared at all times, and be ready to fight dirty.

They all nodded, and began to retreat back to their rooms.

I stayed behind and nodded thanks to Raiden.

"Thank you… for what you did back there. You chose to believe in me, and I appreciate that."

Raiden returned the nod. "I believe in the good in you, but you must believe in it as well. If bloodlust consumes you, then even I will be unable to help."

"Thanks." I was at a loss for words, and retreated to my room, leaving Raiden in the entryway, gazing up at the stars.

**Thanks for reading! Please review and gimme some feedback on the latest chapter.**

**I'll update as soon as I can!**


	8. Outmatched

My eyes snapped open the moment I felt the blade being pressing against my throat. I knew it hadn't been another nightmare, something had fished my mind out of the depths of my own subconscious. It had been cold, and reeked of foul play and cruel intentions. And my instincts were right.

Someone was here, and he had me helpless in my own bed. Of all the ways to die in this tournament, this had to be one of the worst.

At first I couldn't see anything, but then the shape of the intruder materialized above me. And honestly, I thought I was dreaming when I first saw who it was.

_He_ was actually a _she_, and she looked pissed off. She had an excellent figure, and an outfit that would have made the Victoria's Secret catalogue where I came from. But that is what perhaps made her so deadly. She was beautiful, and she knew it.

"Hey there," I tried to keep myself composed in the face of certain death.

"Be silent," she ordered curtly. And I was.

A moment later she spoke.

"It seems like we have reached an impasse, human," she tilted her head to the side, allowing me to get a glimpse of a beautiful waterfall of dark hair that cascaded down her back. "You have something I want."

"Really? Well if you could um, you know, tell me what it is exactly this whole process could be a lot faster," I winced as she pressed again with the blade. "And a lot less painful," I added shamelessly.

"Raiden is meddling with time. How does he see into the future?" she asked. "And don't _play dumb_, I know he told you."

Damn. I had heard that voice somewhere, but I couldn't place it. It had a unique accent that I didn't recognize, sort of a regal twang that came out when she ended her sentences. And the way she said _play dumb _wasn't natural.

_She wasn't from this planet _I suddenly remembered. Her inflections were much different because our way of speaking wasn't her first language. She was one of the women whom Kenshi had fought with.

_But what was her name?_

It shouldn't have hurt me so much or made me stumble over my words, but the thought of a sharp metal object less than an inch away from ending my life really put me on edge.

She didn't monologue or tell me anything about herself in the process, and never averted her gaze.

That alone told me that she was a professional.

"Well," I gulped, feeling the point of the sharp object as it tickled my Adam's apple. "I heard something about him being interested in a particular object. Something here, on Shang Tsung's island. Maybe a relic or some Holy Grail of sorts, but I don't know."

"Go on," she urged, obviously interested.

I was lying to her, of course. Lying my ass off to buy time… but for what?

What are the odds that someone will go wandering the halls at night and knock on my door? And the odds that she won't just kill me and flee the barracks when she realizes that her presence is known.

Her name suddenly came to me.

"Kitana!" I almost yelled it. "That's who you are, the one who fought with Kenshi. You know you could do some real damage in the tournament if you wanted to."

"Yes, thank you. But you didn't answer my question," she opened up the folded fan she had been pressing against my throat, the five stiletto-looking blades reflected some of the moonlight coming through the window.

She cast an eerie shadow as she raised a muscular arm above her head and held the fan up high, prepared to bring it down on me in an instant.

She was truly beautiful, in every meaning of the word. She had the lean, ripped body of a swimmer and a good figure to complement it. Even when my life was in jeopardy, I couldn't help but think about women.

"Look, he only told me a little bit, so bear with me," I held my hands in front of my face, appearing helpless to her.

I shifted my weight, feeling the comfortable bump of the knife in my pocket. It was made of reinforced heavy-duty plastic, and made for a good stabbing weapon. Long ago I had sewn a sheath into my pocket, and could pull the weapon at a moment's notice. It was a sharp, light stabbing weapon, but only effective in very close range.

If we got into a tussle, it wouldn't stand a chance against her dual war fans.

Kitana was losing her patience. I had hesitated too long since I last spoke, and she knew I was up to something. Her entire eye line narrowed at me, and she was dangerously close to killing me and leaving.

I had a chance, about 1 in 50 of breaking free before she gored me with the ornate weapons, but it was all I had. A snowball's chance in hell, but it was a chance at least.

_No time to think, only time to go._

I pulled my legs back and tucked them up against my stomach, gathering power for a brief instant before shooting them out straight, knocking Kitana off of the bed.

She grunted as she rolled backwards off of the mattress, rolling and coming back down on her feet. She was nimble, and her recovery had been much faster than I had anticipated.

I tried to dive off the edge of the bed away from her, but I didn't have the momentum, and my legs got snagged in the blankets.

I fell and hit the edge of the mattress face first, and I tasted the soft fabric for an instant before I started thrashing.

I wiggled my way off of the bed and rolled on my shoulder when I hit the hardwood floor. I felt a whish of air above me as Kitana's strike missed me by less than a half second. I stumbled backwards awkwardly, and I felt the heel of her boot clip my shoulder.

I jumped onto my feet and held my hands up in a protective stance, finally eye level with her.

She bounced on the balls of her feet, studying my stance for a solid minute. Her brown eyes bore into me, and the feeling of being hopelessly outmatched hit me right in the gut. She was much older than I was, and had a lot more time to practice whatever the hell it was that she did.

I was barefoot, and felt the cool flooring beneath my feet as I moved towards her one step at a time.

She motioned for me to _bring it, _her expression totally neutral. Her jaw was set and her eyes locked onto their target.

Suddenly she swung the fan in her right hand.

It slashed at the air in an upward arc in front of me, less than an inch away from my face. It popped open, all five blades extended, and so close to reaching its intended target that I could taste it.

I leaned back on my heels to evade the move entirely, nearly falling over backwards. I regained my balance as we began to circle each other, walking around the border of a near-perfect invisible circle. Her strides were long and effortless, and I was convinced that she had been something of a dancer before being trained as a killer.

We each waited for the other to make the first move. I chose my steps carefully, not wanting to trip and get knocked off balance. Her fans had considerable range, but I had a feeling she knew that extreme close ranger combat and counter attacks were my specialty.

Oh, to hell with it.

I yelped and rushed her, keeping my hands in front of my face and my eyes on her fans. She didn't move, but rather halted in place and held one folded fan pointed at me like a sword and the other open behind her head. I bet her heart rate didn't even go up when I rushed her.

She jabbed with the first fan, and I threw my forearm into the base of her wrist and stepped to the side, narrowly avoiding her attack.

She swung with the other fan and I blocked, throwing my arm up and forcing the weapon away from my body. It sent an energy through my body, and my reaction times were down to less than a quarter of a second.

She began to lift up one of her legs to kick me, and I stepped even further into her stance. I threw my leg at her, my shin connecting with the soft area on the inside of her thigh. Her kick stopped cold.

She gave me a hard shove and backed up, this time holding both fans in front of her, mirroring my own pose.

I jabbed with a flat palm aimed at her nose. Ideally it would break her nose and allow me to manipulate the pressure point just below her nostrils. Or it would just disorient her.

Honestly, I'll take anything I can get at this point.

The hit was short, fast, and instinctive. I had done it so many times that thinking about it would only slow me down. So I let the programmed muscle memory do its work and simply loaned it my hand.

But suddenly she wasn't there anymore. I found myself looking out the window at the starry night and into the dense jungle. The assassin was nowhere to be seen.

Only afterward did I learn that she had dropped down, almost to the floor, and kicked me in the shin.

_Crap!_ It was too late.

She lunged again at an impossibly low angle and hit me in the same shin before I could jump backwards. Pain shot up my leg as she struck a nerve with the pointed heel of her thigh-high boot.

Her head was at waist level, and she was not yet on her feet when I launched a heel kick of my own into her jaw. My good leg shot forward and brought my foot into her mask.

However, the only thing I hit was air.

She tucked and rolled in a flurry of royal blue, safely out of the way. In an instant she was back up to her full height, ready for action.

I shook my head. "Jesus lady!"

She let out a war cry and launched a wild fly kick, jumping the wide distance between us like it was nothing.

I batted it away with my hands and jabbed again with my right hand.

Her forearm was suddenly up in front of my punch. She deflected it away from her and grabbed me by my shirtfront and pulled me closer to her.

Suddenly her foot connected with my jaw, and a wave of pain washed over me. I had clenched my teeth before the blow, but it was incredibly disorienting.

She finished by hefting my up and over her shoulder and dropping me onto the floor.

I hit the hardwood and rolled away from her reflexively.

When I had completed a single 360 roll, I saw her folded fan bury itself into the floorboards, in the exact spot where my head had been a few seconds ago.

I kicked her in the wrist from my uncomfortable position on her ground and she released the weapon, letting it stand straight up on its own, protruding from the hole it had borne in the flooring.

I rolled back and onto my feet, and I was met with a punch to the forehead as I reached my full height.

I staggered backwards and beat down the next jab, stopping the fast punch at the wrist with my forearm.

She stabbed at me with the fan, and I jumped to the side, letting her reach the apex of her swing before stepping into her stance.

I hit her with a fast blow to the kidney, and her side almost caved it. I shot out my foot and swept her legs out from under her.

She grunted and grabbed the front of of my shirt, pulling me down with her.

We fell to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Her remaining fan clattered on the wood as it fell away from her grasp.

We were side by side on the ground in the next instant, looking each other dead in the eye.

She reached into one of her boots and ripped a fan out of a concealed sheath, flicking it open with a fast move of her fingers. She made an angry hissing noise and began to gather momentum for a killing blow.

My head was pounding, and the simple process of thinking of rational attacks and countermeasures was growing more difficult by the second. But there was only one thing I could do.

I didn't wait, ripping the assassination knife out of my pocket in a flash. I grabbed Kitana by the wrist and slammed her against the ground. She didn't let go of the fan, but that was okay.

I pressed the black knife against her throat. I applied only a little pressure, not wanting to kill her in cold blood.

"Yield!" I growled.

She smirked under her mask and suddenly I felt something sharp tapping a rhythm on the crotch of my pants. I looked down and saw a fresh fan folded up into a dagger and dangerously close to my goodies.

"Alright then, miss. How about we call this a draw," I proposed.

She nodded, seeing the hilt of the foreign knife in my hand and feeling something pressing against her throat, she put two and two together.

"Yes, I agree," she said quickly, only then realizing that I could kill her in an instant. But in that same instant I could lose something that I would really_, really_ need.

She hesitated before withdrawing her blade from my crotch. But she honored the deal, and the dagger disappeared inside her boot.

I got up first and offered a hand, keeping the knife ready.

She accepted the hand and I hauled her back to her feet. We were both winded, and a fight to the death suddenly sounded a lot less appealing that it did five minutes ago.

"You know, one of these days I'm gonna get a decent night of sleep and you people aren't going to do anything about it," I laughed as she turned away from me.

She withdrew her knife from my floor and looked back, laughing quietly.

She shook her head. "You… you nearly died and you're laughing!" she put her hands on her hips and shook her head. "I knew you humans were strange."

"Hey, if we weren't already so crazy we'd all go insane, right?" I shrugged.

"Okay, then. You may be laughing now, but this is not over… not even close," she bent down and retrieved her other fan and began walking towards the balcony.

"I didn't know that you were so interested in human history," I said suddenly, and she stopped.

"What?" she turned back.

"I mean… the other night you told me I was a poser, and that I "Used the cloak of nonviolence to mask my impotence." I did some thinking about that, and I realized that you were quoting Gandhi."

"So what?" she asked defensively. "So I might be interested in the history of whatever realm my father is about to acquire. He is in the habit of destroying history books, believing that it would be better if people didn't know what their world used to be before he merged it with Outworld."

"Well, that's not gonna happen," I put my foot down. "Listen, here's how this tournament is going to go: First we're going to get all of the Outworld fighters out of the way, and then we're going to kick Shang Tsung's magical ass and throw him out of his own party."

Kitana shook her head. "Oh, you are a young man aren't you? If only you knew how many fighters said that in the previous Mortal Kombat tournaments. And all of them are either dead, or fight for Outworld. In my opinion, you should leave, Max Chacon. Just leave."

And with that she was gone, off of the balcony and into the warm summer night.

**Hey everyone! I hope you all had a fantastic week, and I hope you enjoy the newest chapter in my ongoing little saga.**

**Note: My take on Kitana and Jade's fighting abilities might be a little different than the norm. They're what, ten thousand years old? I can imagined that Kitana would be able to outfight Max because she has infinitely more experience, and has been training for so much longer.**

**Another Note: As the series progresses, you may find that characters don't use magic as much as they do in the games. In the fight with Kano, he used some of his special moves, but the main fighting style was one that was more grounded in reality. I hope this makes sense from an aauthor standpoint.**

**Anyhoo, I had better get going before I get to rambling. Peace.**


	9. In the Dojo

"So," Johnny Cage began. "Some hot, otherworldly chick broke into you room, busted you ass, and then she just walked out?"

"She didn't _bust my ass _Johnny, she got the jump on me that's all," I said defensively. "Okay, fine. She had the upper hand-"

"That's one way to put it," laughed Liu Kang. "You said you only landed one hit on her before you forced her to a draw with your little knife."

"Like I said," I continued, shooting him a glance. "She was skilled, and we agreed to call it a tie."

"You agreed to call it a tie before or after you got her number?" Johnny asked in a very serious tone before turning to the rest of us, who were staring with disbelief. "What? This is serious business!"

Welcome to the morning of day three here on the island. After a tall glass of water and an ice pack of two, I fell back asleep. Liu woke me bright and early by taking a pounding out on my door, and was a little pissed that I didn't get up on my own.

After only two solid days, I was surprised at how much I had learned about him. I could tell that he had a much more strict and structured routine that I did; He woke up at the same time every day, just before dawn if I were to venture a guess, and he worked out in the morning before breakfast. Morning calisthenics and some spiritual health-based exercises, followed by a high protein breakfast.

And for someone who was in the same tournament as him, not to be as well-prepared was a bit of an insult. I vowed not to make any trouble for him tomorrow and be up by a reasonable hour.

But after I had explained what happened, he suddenly understood. And five minutes after I retold the story, the jokes started a-coming.

Until Raiden came in and addressed the group. Even Johnny Cage was silent.

"Listen, we may be laughing about this now, but if Chacon had been killed, I doubt any of us would be in such a boisterous mood," he said in his deep, commanding voice. He cut the laughter short, and everyone listened up for instructions.

"Those of you who have fought already can ease your nerves; you will not be moving ahead in the bracket until all of the preliminary rounds are complete. But for the rest of you, be on your guard. Shang Tsung's fighters are dirty, and you must be ready to face them, because they are certainly ready for you. Let us begin."

Just because I had the day off didn't mean I was off the hook.

I volunteered to spar with Kenshi and Liu Kang for practice. We got out the oversized padding from the wide array of gear Shang Tsung had so kindly stocked and went to work. And by "went to work", I mean I pretty much let them both practice striking and their favorite attacks on me just to make sure that they could use them when the fighting actually started.

"Alright gentlemen, lets go over some basic rules," I made a point to say this _before _getting into the ring with them. "No shots to the face or groin, no breaks or dislocations, and absolutely nobody kick me in the goddamn shin! I've had enough of that."

They burst into laughter.

"What? I'm not joking!" I shouted over them. I was putting more weight on my left leg than my right for good reason, and ironically Kenshi was the first to notice.

The swordsman put his hand on my shoulder. "I'll do my best, but no promises."

Liu Kang nodded. "Fair enough, and I'll try not to hurt you too bad."

"Mm-hm, thanks," I said, rolling my eyes. "You know it's so good to have friends."

Kenshi snickered and tossed me a padded vest. "Here, put this on. I think you'll need it."

And I most certainly did.

Liu Kang was first up, bouncing up and down on the sparring floor to get his blood flowing. From the opposite side of the room I could tell he was pumped up. All we needed was some Irish fighting music, and the mood would be set perfectly.

He closed the 30-foot gap like none other, dashing toward me in short sprints and lunges, letting out a high-pitched yelp every time he did so. In less than five seconds, he was on top of me.

Defying physics as I knew them, he leapt up in the air and kicked me repeatedly in the chest, once hitting my face on accident. My upper chest screamed at me to do something about it, but this was about technique, and I had to serve only as a punching bag for now.

I would later find out that this move was affectionately named the Bicycle Kick.

I hit the mat hard. The vest had prevented any of my ribs from being cracked or broken, but it hadn't exactly made the attack any less enjoyable. I soon realized that I was fortunate because I could still breathe properly.

Liu Kang offered a hand, and I accepted it, jumping back onto my feet.

"That was amazing!" I exclaimed, realizing the gravity of what he had done. The acrobatic and muscle training must have taken years to complete. "How did you do that?"

"Practice," he said simply. "Lots and lots of practice. But I'm concerned. I fell away from you a kick short, if memory serves me correctly."

"Huh, I wouldn't have noticed," I said honestly. "It was awesome all the same."

Liu Kang turned to the sideline, where Kenshi was sharpening his blade. "Hey, Kenshi! How did that look from over there?"

The swordsman promptly gave him the middle finger.

The next half hour was spent shadow boxing in different corners of the room. All of us went through the motions of our unique fighting styles, giving each other ample distance. Kenshi had a scary-long range with his hologram-looking apparition, using the power generated from his sword to do, punches, kicks, and downward strikes with a Katana. After one or two forms, he said that he had a headache and needed a minute to sit down.

Liu Kang was the fastest by a longshot, using his closed fists like most people would use a machine gun. He gave the heavy bag a tremendous beating, shaking the entire floor as he went.

Kenshi was not very fast at all, or so it seemed. He began practicing strikes and forms very slowly, making use of the engrained muscle memory he had built up when he could see. But soon his hits got faster, and he mixed in punches and throws with strikes and swings of his blade.

Soon he was almost as speedy as Liu Kang, and perhaps even more dangerous.

When he was finished, he bowed his head and released the sword, moving his hands slowly to his temples. Instead of clattering to the floor, it remained where he had held it with his hands, free floating in the air while facing toward the ground. The divine blade resembled a slightly crooked cross, and the device remained perfectly level with seemingly nothing holding it up.

The supernatural weapon had been encased by a blue aura and began to turn over in place, slowly, like the gear of an old machine willed back to life. The blade swished through the air like a lawnmower, making distinct whipping noise when it swung.

Soon the no-handed swings became erratic, and moved with such speed that keeping track of them only gave me a headache. I looked over at Kenshi, who was massaging his temples with his thumb and forefinger. After a few seconds I began to notice a pattern.

He was controlling the sword like a joy stick!

After the demonstration, he extended his arms and Sento moved into his grip. Kenshi was out of breath, and perspiration darkened the red blindfold tied around his eyes.

After a moment of rest, he began to speak. The words weren't directed at either one of us in particular, but rather just thoughts said aloud. We let him finish.

He told us a little about Tai Chi, the martial art he predominately used, and how it was both a fighting method and an ancient form of medicine.

"Tai Chi," he said as he slid Sento into the scabbard across his back, "has kept me healthy when food and shelter have neglected my body. It is a fine thing, really. However, it works best when I am not angry."

Liu and I exchanged a glance. That was some hardcore irony right there. The man was obsessed with revenge, and had spent years conditioning his body for the impossible task of defeating Shang Tsung while blind, yet he claimed to fight in a very soft and calm manner.

Whatever was said next had to be done with the utmost sensitivity, as not to offend the passionate swordsman.

"And this training you have done," Liu Kang spoke carefully, knowing that he was dancing on glass. "This has not at all assuaged your appetite for revenge?"

"I wish I could say that," he admitted. "I really do, but revenge is really all I can do now."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"I mean that I had my eyesight _ripped _out of me, Chacon. The trauma of the event still gives me nightmares. And now…" he shook his head. "Now the only thing good I can do for this world is destroy the man who had already taken so much from it."

His voice wavered and he sounded close to tears, but the injury left him without tear ducts. This only angered him further. His face contorted into an expression of passionate anger.

"I will live to witness the day when he falls off of his grand throne," Kenshi swore. The tone he took was dangerous. He _believed_ what he was saying. "I know I will never be the same, but justice is balance; and he will pay in full for taking the souls of my ancestors."

MKMKMK

Stryker felt his muscles contract, tightening like a net over his arms as he lifted the tremendous weight up one last time.

He almost yelled as he thrust the bar back onto its cradle. It was over, morning PT was finished.

He sighed and sat up on the edge of the bench press, wiping his face with a towel. He felt overheated, and took in deep breaths for a solid minute to get his heart rate back down to its normal tempo.

His arms felt several sizes too big, and not in a good way. Unlike some experienced officers he knew, Stryker maintained a religious fitness routine; two hours every day, whether it be weights or combat training, just so long as he was doing something.

He took a deep breath, followed by a long pull of his water bottle. He shouldn't have been this tired out, but he was wiped after an hour of morning fitness.

_It's just the nerves, _he told himself. _There's a lot riding on this tournament, and if we mess up, then innocent people will be paying for it._

He shook his head and rose up to his full height, a broad 6'1", and started to leave the dojo.

"Hey!"

The voice made him freeze, and his right hand fell to his waist, instinctively grabbing the handle of his Beretta. He turned around quickly and faced the threat.

Sonya Blade approached, taking long and graceful strides on her way across the dojo. She was unfazed by Stryker's reaction, and didn't make a comment as he slid the Beretta back into its place on his gunbelt.

She was dressed in a rather… interesting fashion for someone who was Special Forces. Loose fitting black cargo pants and an unbuttoned flak vest over a white t-shirt were not standard issue, but then again she was not an average soldier.

"Hey, you're Special Forces, right? Kurtis Stryker, NYPD," he extended a hand, and she took it with a firm grip.

"Sonya Blade, 3-1 company, Anti-arms proliferation detachment," she nodded. "I read your service jacket, it's quite impressive."

"Yeah, and I'll bet yours is classified," Stryker laughed.

"Until at least 2035," she confirmed.

"Uh-huh, right. What's going on here exactly? When are we going to start fighting?" he asked, folding his arms across his chest.

"Soon. Say, have you seen the man that Chacon fought last night, the guy who had the mechanical eye and the combat knives?" she asked. To anyone else the question would have appeared nonchalant, but Stryker saw through her thin guise. She was desperate. The way she twirled her thin blonde hair in between her fingers when she made eye contact told him all he needed to know.

She wanted information, and she wanted it now.

"Kano?" he decided to play along for the moment. "Nope, he got beat up pretty bad, so you might want to check the infirmary… or the gutter. I don't think Shang Tsung has a lot of tolerance for failure."

"Yeah, but please keep me posted if his name comes up," she straightened up, and her posture was considerably better.

_Now she was being honest. She wanted help, but was unsure of how to ask for it._

"Alright, ma'am. I'll keep an eye out."

With that she was gone, and Stryker heard footsteps behind him. He decided not to overreact and draw his weapon this time, as no Outworld warriors were allowed in the barracks.

That was a mistake.

As he wheeled around, he saw what at first glance looked to be a man. But the jaw was considerably too thick, and the skin on his bare, muscular arms was a thick and wrinkly hide. Where his eyebrows should have been, the skin on his forehead was pulled into a thick rim above his eyes. A set of pointed ears sat too far back on his head, and the cartilage seemed to meld with the flesh around his skull, making his ears only partially stick out from his bald head.

"What the hell is your problem?" Stryker demanded.

"I challenge you, human!" he yelled in a raspy voice. Stryker had heard chain smokers with clearer voices than his. When he spoke, his lips pulled back to reveal a nasty set of fangs in place of teeth; a rotten yellow set of stalagmites that were much larger than those of any animal Stryker had come in contact with.

"You and me, in Mortal Kombat!" he yelled, taking up a fighting stance in front of Stryker. "The winner advances into the next round, but the loser…" he shook his head in mock pity. "Will wish that he was never born!"

Stryker nodded, trying to appear unfazed. "You got it, pal."

He pulled his weapon fast, putting the abomination in the crosshairs in an instant. His finger tightened around the trigger, but Baraka was ready for him.

The Tarkatan held out a muscular arm and a blade sprung out, the point of which reaching almost three feet in front of his bony claws. It a thick, metallic stabbing weapon. That thing had always been in his arm, and he most certainly knew hot to use it.

He quickly extended the other and, just as the pistol left Stryker's holster, ran it across the opposite blade in a simple and practiced motion, resembling a much larger version of igniting a lighter. The friction shot a wayward spark forward and struck the barrel of the weapon.

Stryker yelped as the heat seared the slide of his pistol. He released his grip, letting the burnt out piece slide across the floor.

"Alright, then." Stryker drew a pair of nightsticks from his belt, spinning them end over end in his hands before facing Baraka again. "Let's dance."

**Happy weekend everbody! I tried to upload this earlier but apparently the site was having some sort of trouble, or my computer was just being a jerk... again.**

**And thank you all for the reviews, more fights are coming soon. The preliminary rounds of the tournament are underway...**


	10. Swordfight

Stryker watched as Baraka took cautious steps around him, sizing up his prey. His arms appeared to be severely burned, and the flesh wrapped around his stocky form looked like an ill-fitting costume. Somehow fake, yet Stryker knew that it was just as real as anything else.

Baraka's lips curled into a wicked smile, exposing the rows of razor sharp teeth jutting out of his wide-set jaw. He made a snarling noise from the bottom of his throat.

Stryker felt his heart jump in his chest, and then it hit the ground running. His pulse pounded a tribal drum beat in his ears, and his entire conscious zeroed on the creature in front of him.

They were the only two left in the universe. He had to put this animal down. Nothing else mattered.

Suddenly, Baraka was in front of him, and the swordfight began.

Baraka faked a wide, telegraphed, swing with this right arm an instant driving the left forward, blade fully extended, aimed at Stryker's midsection.

Stryker had seen the trick before, and knocked the blade away with a tap his baton. He jumped to the side to avoid another consecutive jab from Baraka.

Baraka didn't take the bait, and maintained his balance in front of Stryker. He snarled like a wild animal, and the two began circling in the middle of the dojo.

Stryker heard a gong in the distance, and some sort of tribal drum beat had erupted from the battlegrounds; a cacophony of yells and war whoops permeated by the rough sound of metal-on-metal from the grounds that were a few hundred yards away from the dojo.

Electricity flowed from the floor up into Stryker's combat boots, and he took a deep breath, finding some comfort in the fact that he was not alone in the struggle. Someone else was fighting, and Stryker realized that he was not yet alone, not even here.

"Do you hear that?" Baraka asked. "It is what my people call the _Ryumdah, _The War Thunder. It is the one thing that is common in all mortal beings. Realm, race, breed… we all feel it. Coursing through our veins when we are in the heat of battle. Ones like us live for it."

Stryker shook his head, holding both batons in a defensive stance. The word _us_ made his hairs stand on end. "You… have _nothing_ in common with me. I fight to protect those who are in need; you fight because of the adrenaline rush it gives you. Hell, I don't even think you believe that Shao Kahn should have this world, you just want a challenge worthy of your abilities."

Baraka laughed. "But don't we all, human?"

Stryker thrusted with a nightstick.

Baraka parried and attempted to slash Stryker's hand with his integrated weapon.

Stryker hit Baraka in the ribs with a quick swipe and jumped out of range.

Baraka yelled in anger and swung both blades in unison.

Stryker swung and beat down both attacks. The impact reverberated throughout his entire body. His eyes widened as he dropped almost to his knees, ducking a third feral slash that would have decapitated him.

He was inside of Baraka's stance, and brought his weapon into the creature's thigh.

Baraka yelped and Stryker jumped back, ready for more.

Baraka looked up, snarling through the pain. He turned and spat onto the ground before coming at Stryker once again, full force.

Stryker met him in the middle, blocking a wild slash and smacking Baraka on the head with his baton.

Baraka grabbed Stryker's left hand before extending his claw to an unprecedented length, tearing a gash in his opponent's bicep.

He let go of Stryker's arm and jumped into the air, spinning like a top before connecting his heel with the police officer's gut.

He stumbled and reeled backward, and Baraka went on the offensive.

Baraka swung, and Stryker managed to parry.

Baraka's fist connected with Stryker's jaw in the next instant; a sharp cross to the cheek and Stryker tasted blood in his mouth.

Baraka stabbed again, but hit nothing but air. Stryker dived left, staggering back onto his feet just in time to meet Baraka's next assault.

Stryker was running out of time, and he knew it. He was fighting a losing battle with an alien monster, and he secretly cursed Raiden for bringing him here in the first place.

Baraka led off with a push kick aimed at Stryker's groin.

But Stryker wasn't done yet. He grabbed Baraka's outstretched leg and pulled it close to his chest, stopping the kick by pulling Baraka off balance.

He smashed his own forehead into Baraka's, hard. The creature was dazed, but it was only more pissed off.

Then he did something that went against everything he had been taught as a police officer. He smashed hit baton into his opponent's kneecap before giving him a firm shove backwards.

_You never do that_, the stocky, loudmouthed weapons instructor at the police academy told him. _You might just immobilize him for life._

Baraka put up no resistance, collapsing in a heap on the ground, clutching his wrecked knee. He howled in rage and spat curses in his native tongue at Stryker. His wide, feral eyes got even wider and he screamed at an impossibly high octave.

Stryker shook his head. He would probably never walk again.

But in the next instant Baraka was back on his feet, shifting his weight from side to side as he extended his blades. He rose up to his full height, bending one leg at the knee and keeping his injured one stock straight.

He worked his wounded leg from side to side for several seconds, bowing his head as if in prayer. The veins in his neck retreated for a second, and he appeared to be calm for the first time in his life. Stryker could hear him whispering something unintelligible under his breath.

_Had he gone mad from the pain?_

A gunshot sounded as Baraka threw his knee back into socket. The loose ball under the flesh of his leg was sucked back inward and fell into place. The bulging skin on his leg retreated… somewhat.

He rolled his neck and laughed, utterly enjoying it.

Stryker stared in disbelief. _You couldn't throw your kneecap back into place! That's not possible!_

"You think a little pain will stop me? I've taken worse hits from children!" Baraka laughed before lunging at Stryker.

"Well, then. I guess I'll have to find something else to break," Stryker yelled as his batons met Baraka's blades.

Stryker dueled for a moment, struggling to parry Baraka's unnaturally fast attacks, before jumping backward.

Stryker knew he couldn't keep this up for much longer. The man he was facing was simply too dangerous, and the swords grafted into his arms were already beginning to do serious damage to his standard-issue batons. One was bent and the other was nearly torn to shreds.

He had to end this fight. Fast.

Baraka held up his left arm, and bright red stained the end of the blade. He ran his tongue over it, literally tasting the other man's blood.

"Uh oh," Baraka whispered. "Looks like you're in trouble."

Stryker looked down and saw a nasty gash in his side. Dammit, it didn't look good.

"Fight!" Baraka yelled at the top of his lungs. He charged again, making short, quick swipes with his blades, intending to strike him in the chest quickly, before Stryker would be able to counter.

But Stryker wouldn't let that happen.

His hand curled around the Taser in the back of his gunbelt, and the weight of the small black box was reassuring in his hands.

Baraka leaned forward and swung. Stryker met it with the broadside of his baton and thumbed open the clasp that secured the Taser to his belt.

Baraka stabbed, and Stryker parried.

The Taser left its cradle.

Stryker came up with the device in his hand, hard and fast, and jammed it under Baraka's chin. He squeezed, and the little device went to work.

Thousands of volts coursed through Baraka's nervous system in a single second. It would be devastating to a normal person, but the high-density metallic substance embedded in Baraka's arms amplified the shock throughout his body.

He tried to scream, but his vocal cords had been paralyzed. It must have been unbearable, but Stryker was sure that the monster deserved it.

After a solid ten seconds, Stryker disengaged his Taser and slid it back into his belt.

Baraka was still standing. His muscles were coiled in knots beneath his skin, and he remained frozen in a standing position, hands by his side and blades fully extended. He made a slight groaning sound, the only indication that he was still alive.

Stryker cupped his hand around Baraka's face and shoved him to the ground. Baraka fell with a thud, motionless and now, finally unconscious.

"Punk!" Stryker spat, cupping his hand over the long gash in his side. He had given him a New York beatdown. And through all of the blood and the massive headache, he felt proud of his work.

If only things back home were so simple. If only everyone would settle their problems like this…

"Stryker!" he heard a familiar voice behind him.

He turned to see Chacon, Kenshi, and Liu Kang racing towards him.

Stryker went to his knees as the pain began to gnaw at him. It erupted, and he felt a strange burning sensation as he pressed his palms against the wound in a desperate effort to stem the blood flowing down onto his leg.

Liu Kang was there first. He ripped off his shirt and pressed it against the wound. Chacon raced to find medical supplies and Kenshi helped Liu Kang with first aid.

"Hold still, take deep breaths," Liu said is a calm voice.

"Relax, I've taken worse hits before," Stryker patted him on the shoulder and followed his instructions.

In moments, Chacon returned with a handful of medical supplies from one of the rooms and dumped them on the ground beside Stryker. The hardwood floor was stained with red, and Kenshi and Chacon applied a blood clotting agent to the wound while Liu Kang continued to rummage through the supplies, looking for something useful.

He found the disinfecting agent and immediately began applying it to the wound. Stryker winced as a fire was ignited behind his eyes. It _hurt_ him, even worse than the actual blow had. The stinging sensation eventually subsided, but not before it had made itself memorable.

Stryker winced and sat up.

"Easy, cowboy," Chacon put a hand on his shoulder. "Go slow, there's not exactly anywhere you need to be right now."

Stryker grunted. "Well, actually there is. That guy I knocked out-"

"What guy?" Liu and Chacon asked in unison.

"Aw, come on. Don't tell me-"Stryker turned around to see an empty space on the floor where Baraka had fallen.

"How the hell did that happen?" Chacon asked. "I saw him there when we came in. Bald, about 6'6, he had the Wolverine thing going too, some kind of metal prosthetic in his arms-"

"Yeah, they're swords and they're pretty damn sharp," Stryker grunted.

Stryker saw a shadow as it disappeared out of the massive open space in the wall behind him. No doubt the way Baraka had entered and left earlier. Stryker bet he could drive a dumptruck out of it without chipping the ceremonial carvings around the border.

He tried to crane his head to see who had run past, but Liu Kang held him down.

"Kenshi!" Liu Kang whispered. "He's gone after Baraka!"

"You stay here, Liu. I'll bring him back!" Chacon yelled, breaking into a sprint and exiting the building. A moment later he stuck his head back inside.

"Hey, Kurtis! Mind if I borrow this?" he held up Stryker's Beretta, hammer pulled back and ready to fire.

_How the hell had he taken that?_

"Fine, just remember to take the safety off before you fire!" Stryker shouted back. Chacon was gone, in hot pursuit of Kenshi.

MKMKMK

I hoofed it after Kenshi, who had disappeared into the jungle 50 meters ahead of me.

My feet pounded the worn pavement of the fighting grounds, and my sore muscles threatened to tie themselves into knots as I pushed body into a full sprint.

I was definitely feeling the effects of two brutal fights in as many days. My chest was killing me, and Kitana's masked face was at the forefront of my mind as I began to tear through the jungle.

I couldn't decide whether or not I liked that.

Fortunately, Kenshi wasn't all that difficult to track. He was agile and swift, but he couldn't see, and was constantly stumbling as he ran.

"Kenshi!" I yelled after him. My button-up shirt fell open and exposed the pistol I had tucked into the front of my waistband as I raced after him. The barrel of the weapon was pointed in a very awkward direction, so I ripped it out and stuffed it in the side of my pants, where my belt was tightest.

I continued in pursuit, jumping over fallen trees and logs and dipping under low-hanging vegetation. The sword across his back winked at me as it waddled further and further away from me.

I chased his shadow for what seemed like ages. His labored breathing and loud racket allowed me to keep pace with him through the thick jungle of vines and trees. I saw him stumble. He almost went down, but rose back up and continued his steady pace. How was he moving that fast?

Was he juicing? I know my adrenaline was on standby and near depletion, but he was just getting started.

My side flared up as I caught an unlucky stitch.

_Damn, I thought I was in better shape than that._

It hurt like none other, but I was determined to stay on Kenshi and keep him from jeopardizing our chances in the tournament.

We burst through the jungle only a few paces apart and I caught sight of Baraka limping towards the massive Outworld barracks. No doubt Kenshi heard his heavy footsteps as well. He was cradling one of his arms with the other, and looked on the verge of collapse.

Kenshi kicked in his afterburners, and ran Baraka down.

Baraka turned just in time to see Kenshi dive tackle him onto the ground. Baraka had a much larger and stockier frame than Kenshi, but he put up no resistance as he went face-first on the concrete.

Kenshi rolled him over and drew his Katana from its place on his back. He pressed the blade against Baraka's throat.

"No!" I yelled. "Kenshi! Wait, stop!"

He wheeled around and faced me.

I slowed down and trotted over to him, out of breath.

"This isn't our court, man. We aren't allowed here," I reminded him, looking around frantically for any of Shang Tsung's fighters that might be roaming around the barracks during the day.

"Tell that to him!" Kenshi shot back. "He nearly killed your friend, and he has lead us to Shang-"

He paused, and his head perked up like that of a cat. He listened for a moment, and the ends of his blindfold flapped in the light wind.

"Duck!" he yelled suddenly. I had no idea what he had sensed, but I trusted his hearing and smell over mine.

I hit the pavement just as a circular projectile sailed over our heads, slicing through the air in a relentless arc.

It circled around as if guided by some unseen force and flying back the way it had come.

A small hand reached out and caught it in midair.

I looked down from the hand, which was connected to a lean, muscular arm, and saw a woman with deeply tanned skin and a mask covering her face.

_Kitana's friend! What had her name been?_

_Jade. Her personal bodyguard._

Then the lady in blue appeared beside her, masked and looking pissed off.

She drew a war fan and shook her head.

"You two should have never come," Jade said in a playfully mocking voice. A purple staff shot out from the small stick in her hand, and glowed brilliantly from end to end, far taller than she was.

Kenshi and I exchanged a glance, or at least my look of desperation and panic and his gaping mouth, that can properly be summed up in two words.

Oh shit.

**Hello again! I got this chapter up early because I will be gone this weekend. Enjoy!**

**P.S. The next chapter is going to be more of an action setpiece(or so I'm hoping) than a traditional fight, so it might take me a little bit to complete, but I should be on schedule with the update at the end of next week.**

**Folks, have a great Friday and don't try any of this at home.**


	11. 2 vs 2

Kitana and Jade began to approach us, taking long and graceful strides that would soon put them within striking distance. Kitana held her fans in a protective guard position in front of her face and throat, and Jade spun her staff between her fingers confidently, waiting for us to attack first.

Jade was considerably more cocky than her counterpart, and appeared to have the skill to back it up. Her bright green eyes danced as she looked us up and down, trying to gauge our effective range and modes of attack.

Kitana appeared to be made of stone, standing still and watching the two of us with hard, determined eyes.

I looked frantically to Kenshi.

"Uh, any ideas?" I asked.

"Yes. You take the princess. I'll take her bodyguard," Kenshi said simply. He drew Sento from its scabbard across his back, holding it with both hands out in front of him, ears open and listening to our opponents' every move with superhuman ears.

"No I mean, like a specific way to do that," I pressed on, and the Beretta in the side of my waistband bumped me, reminding me that it was still there.

"Yes. Quickly."

In the next moment his blade connected with Jade's incredibly long staff. He swung high and she ducked, backing up and kicking him in the small of his back.

He stumbled for a moment before repositioning himself and coming at her again.

Their weapons connected in a flurry of sparks and clangs as both masters met their match.

I turned to Kitana, who was considerably closer to me than she had been a second ago. Her stance had changed to an aggressive guard, and her fans were now pointed at my heart.

I didn't waste a second.

I ripped the Beretta out of my pants and held it with both hands, putting the crosshairs in the space where her mask met the bridge of her nose.

She froze, somehow knowing that the weapon could end her with a single pull of the trigger.

"Human… you cheat!" she protested.

"I never fight fair," I laughed back.

In the next moment something unbelievable happened right in front of me. I later pieced together what in God's name had happened.

Apparently, Kenshi and Jade were doing some moving around in their duel next to me and Kitana, and it had gotten to the point that they had completely switched sides of the playing field; with Jade being closer to me and Kenshi advancing out from the direction of the Outworld barracks. Kenshi had actually gained the upperhand, and was driving Jade back toward us with his telekinetic sword. But Jade was fighting back, and whipping her staff all over the place to parry his blows, and even score one or two of her own.

Somehow, Jade's staff slapped the pistol out of my hand on one of her wild backswings, and she didn't even notice. She was too busy with her opponent.

I watched in despair as Stryker's Beretta skittered across the uneven pavement, bouncing over a few loose stones with some loud clicks and pops from the gun's inner workings, before disappearing into a bush on the edge of the treeline, some thirty feet away.

Kitana and I both were looking in the direction that the gun had traveled for what seemed like an eternity. She tilted her head to the side, and looked this way and that, giving the area a thorough sweep with her hard brown eyes before concluding that the gun was gone for good.

She slowly turned back to me, pissed off.

"Now let's just talk about this-"

I was cut off abruptly as she launched a wild fly kick in my direction, covering the gap between us like it was nothing.

I ducked under her leg, feeling the material of her boot graze the back of my neck as I dropped onto my knees to avoid the kick. Pain shot up my legs when my kneecaps hit the stone pavement, hard. It was the exact wrong way to land, but I could worry about it later.

Her momentum couldn't be undone, and she continued up and over me, completely missing her mark. I jumped back to my feet and we fought.

She whipped an open fan at me, aiming crosswise at my chest.

I leaned backwards, almost falling over to avoid the slash. A gust of wind whipped my chest as the weapon sailed by.

With her left hand, she fired a closed fist at my stomach.

I beat down her blow with the blade of my forearm, stopping the punch at the wrist. She quickly stepped back, having observed my close kombat fighting techniques during my battle with Kano.

Her jaw was tightly clenched to avoid biting her tongue if she was hit in the mouth, but her body was loose, and glided through the air in front of me. She was on the balls of her feet, moving gracefully from side to side, maintaining perfect balance.

She swung wide again with the fan, opening the five-bladed weapon fast as her arm came around in a hooking motion. She was crouching crouching low so that the swipe would disembowel me when the blade connected with my intestines, and would be bloody difficult to block.

I stepped into her stance, breaking her perfect swing and stopped the fan by taking out her wrist with a swipe of my elbow. The blade still graced my bicep, searing my flesh as it passed. But at least I was still alive.

She countered with a sharp, unexpected blow to my jaw with her free hand.

Ouch. That one hurt a lot more than I thought it might.

She tried to step back to reset her stance, but I grabbed her arm and pulled myself closer to her instead.

We were at extreme close range now, my area of expertise.

I drove a flat palm at an upward angle under her chin, loosening her tightly-clenched jaw, and followed with an elbow to the cheek, using the entire weight of my body to power the sharp motion. There was a sharp crack, and she stumbled backwards.

I drove the attack home, lifting my leg up and snapping it forward, kicking her in the back of her knee.

Her leg collapsed and she hit the pavement. She hissed and fumed beneath her mask, equal parts angry and in pain.

"Now we're even, sister," I pointed down at her and laughed. "That's for last night."

Suddenly her leg shot out and arced under me, sweeping both of my feet out of the way as passed.

"Umph!" I grunted as I hit the ground ass-first. Kitana kicked back up onto her feet, regaining her footing on the stony ground, looking down at me and smiling below her mask.

"And that's for thinking you had a chance," she laughed back at me.

I shrugged. "Fair enough."

We put up our dukes and boxed began to dance.

She jabbed with a closed fist, and I beat it away with a desperate move of my forearm. I took heavy breaths, exhaling loudly so that I wouldn't forget to keep breathing. I kept my open hands in front of my face and throat, holding them high and loose. She held hers slightly lower and balled into fists, ready to dish out body blows.

I stepped forward and twisted my hips around like a windup clock, whipping my leg out at the last second for maximum power. The side kick came within an inch of her knee, but her experience and speed had honed her reflexes, and she simply stepped out of the way.

She jumped forward and clipped me in the jaw, my reaction time barely fast enough to avoid a full on blow. It stung like a mother, but it only made me more focused.

I faked left, about to employ a wild haymaker punch with my left arm, and she moved to block. In the half second that she wasn't expecting it, I drove another hit home.

I used my hips again as a fulcrum and delivered a straight punch to her solar plexus, driving my knuckles into her diaphragm. I bent my knees slightly for maximum power, and it paid off.

She hunched over, hacking and coughing, unable to get a breath.

I didn't let up, following with an open palm to her nose, whipping her head backward. And when her head tilted back, her body followed.

She stumbled again, almost collapsing.

I stepped forward and aimed another flat palm strike at her ribs.

But she parried, smacking my arm away as if I were a child.

She suddenly leaped into the air and spun in a 360 degree circle, coming back around with her foot extended.

Her heel smashed into my temple and I fell backwards. My world was spinning, and I landed on top of something a lot softer than concrete.

Dots clouded my vision, and I was literally seeing stars for a few seconds. Man, that had been a hard kick. I wonder how long it had taken her to master that.

I heard a grunt from under me.

"Max, get off me," Kenshi grunted.

"How did you get down there?" I demanded, sitting up next to him.

"Jade," he grunted. "Isn't that bad of a fighter."

The two of us staggered back to our feet, leaning on each other for support.

Jade and Kitana were standing side by side, facing us. Kitana's cheek was already beginning to bruise, and her revealing outfit showed me that my hit to her solar plexus had left a mark.

Jade's forehead also had a spot of black and blue, and she had a cut across her stomach.

I'll bet we looked worse.

"So what's the plan this time, Mr. Tactical Genius," I shot at Kenshi, pulling the sleeve of my open dress shirt back into place. "C'mon man, how is this going to go down?"

Kenshi shook his head. "Forget that, Max. Run!"

With that he took off in a dead sprint back into the jungle, with a good 5 second head start on me. Jerkoff didn't have to be faster than Jade and Kitana, he just had to be faster than _me_. And his sudden decision might make that a reality.

"Are you really that selfish?" I yelled, charging after him.

I burst through that shrubs at the edge of the treeline, and began weaving through the thick trees, hopping and skipping over the gnarled roots sticking up from the ground. I could hear them in hot pursuit, grunting and panting as they followed me.

A vine whipped me in the face as I ran past, but I didn't care.

I caught up with Kenshi, who was stumbling and tripping his way to safety.

"Where are we going?" he shouted as I came up alongside him.

"The hell away from here!" I shouted back. My side tightened up, and my heart rate was almost maxed out as I pulled Kenshi along through the jungle.

The Edinians were gaining, fast. A flash of anger hit me. It wasn't fair that they got 10,000 years to build endurance and strength compared to my 30, but such is life I guess.

"Jump!" I yelled as we approached a log. Kenshi timed it almost better than I did, lifting himself up and coming back down to Earth without losing any speed. For a moment, I stumbled to catch up.

We were charging through the woods full tilt. Kenshi couldn't see anything in front of us, and I was too dumb to have spotted it in a timely fashion.

Suddenly, the forest began to thin out in front of us, and…

Oh, crap.

The woods had given way to a steep hill, the kind that isn't quite sure what it wants to be just yet; as its way too steep to get down safely yet is not a completely vertical drop like you see in the movies.

I grabbed Kenshi and pulled him down with me into the dirt.

I got a mouthful of soil as we went down, and Kenshi cursed repeatedly at me under his breath. We rolled, and came to a stop an inch short of the ledge. And when I say _an_ inch, I'm not exaggerating. Another instant and we would be tumbling down the hillside.

"What was that for?" Kenshi spat, wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his uniform.

"We about went off of a cliff. I had to take us to the ground to stop us in time," I explained.

He opened his mouth to speak, but stopped suddenly. If he had eyes we would have exchanged an expression of panic, for Kitana and Jade were racing toward us, unaware of the drop-off.

"Stop!" Kenshi yelled. They were only a few meters away now, and closing fast. Their lithe forms maneuvered through the dense jungle at an unstoppable pace.

Kitana burst through the undergrowth, making a beeline for me.

"Kitana! Don't!" I yelled. "You'll take us both-"

I cut myself off as I dived to the right to avoid her dive tackle. I tucked and rolled successfully, and came back up to my feet, believing that I had won.

It was then that I saw her hanging over the edge of the steep incline by the front of my shirt. I was off balance, and couldn't possibly move fast enough to pull her up.

"Not good!" I yelped as she pulled me over the side with her.

We tumbled down the steep incline in a tangle of limbs and a colorful array of profanities. The mountain was several hundred meters high, and much too rocky for my taste.

She swung her body around and landed on me when we completed a roll on the muddy hill.

I squealed as she came down hard on my right calf, and I returned the favor by dropping my shoulder down on her chest when we rolled again.

She groaned and we broke apart. Our speed increased as my world was put through a washing machine. I could only see the bright blue of the sky and the dark red of the muddy ground, sometimes indistinguishable due to the high speed.

_Shoulder_

_Foot_

_Back_

The hill seemed to reach out and punch whatever part of my body dared to touch it. I only felt contact with the slanted Earth very couple of seconds, that's how steep it was. Whenever I was airborne, I had no idea when I would slam into the ground again, a suspenseful and humiliating ordeal.

The pain was sharp, and embarrassing at that.

I heard another woman yell some miles away. Jade must've fallen as well.

We hit a drop-off, and I came down squarely on my ass, and so did she. I tucked my head under and rolled over my shoulder to displace some of the inertia, but it was utterly fruitless.

She grunted as she smacked a root on the way down, and continued to fall. Her blue outfit was stained with mud, and the fan she had been holding tumbled into oblivion.

I managed to break the cyclone of rolls and began sliding on my butt, which was not only more painful to my already-abused tailbone, but gave me a wedgie like none other.

In a few seconds, the hill flattened out for a short distance, just enough to slow ourselves down in time to miss the next drop-off. The tall, wild grass on the hillside evened out, and suddenly the Earth was soft again.

We rolled to a halt next to each other, moaning in pain. I was dazed from the fall, and a heavy feeling fell on my gut. For a moment I thought I was going to throw up, but I held it back. It wouldn't solve anything.

"Ow," I groaned as my _everything_ hurt. My muscles themselves had given up, and I was doing my best to stay conscious. I was lying on my stomach, and I tilted my head to the side to get another look at Kitana.

I whispered a silent prayer, desperately asking God to have made that fall painful for the both of us.

But the prayer wasn't needed. Kitana was out cold.

I took in several breaths, and fire seared my lungs as I took in air. Ribs bruised, maybe even cracked, but that was okay.

For a moment all was quiet in the world. The soft wind blew through my hair, and I looked up at the billowing clouds forming in the distance.

A storm was coming, and it would arrive soon.

The sound of Kenshi and Jade tumbling down the hill in tandem shook me from my daze. They were actually fighting as they went, the sound of steel on steel unmistakable.

Kenshi nearly landed on top of me, and Jade was only inches away from him.

"Ouch," he said flatly before sitting up. His blindfold was hanging loose around his neck, and his bare eyes sockets were visible for a brief instant before he pulled the red fabric tight around his head once again.

He turned his head to the side and cracked his neck before drawing his sword once again.

"C'mon, we have to get up," I pleaded. "Here, help me to my feet. I think I can walk."

"What? I don't think you're in condition to go anywhere fast," he said as he stood up to his full height. "I'll finish her."

"Finish? Pal, you didn't even start! And I'm fine by the way, just slipped and fell, that's all," I grunted as he pulled me up to my feet. My shins killed, but I could stand.

I turned to see Jade coming at us, staff extended.

Kenshi stepped forward, but out of nowhere came Kitana, with a fresh pair of fans in her small hands.

"Whoa!" he yelled as he tilted his sword to block her attack.

One of her fans struck Sento and was deflected, and she followed up with another swing.

Kenshi ducked, and he counterattacked swiftly. But she was too fast, and jumped out of the way before resetting her stance.

My eyes met Jade's. She was bruised and somewhat bloodied, but she stood at her full height, cradling her staff in one hand and a boomerang in the other.

She hurled the boomerang, and I freaking dived down the hill, sliding several feet before coming to a rest in a patch of grass.

I could almost taste the ground for a second, but I got up quickly, throwing my body backward just in time to avoid a jab of her staff.

She thrusted again with the staff, and I moved left to avoid the hit.

She reached into the air and caught the boomerang before tossing it again at close range, a low throw at my legs.

I jumped into the air as the device whizzed under me, and I came back down on my feet, facing Jade.

"Quit throwing shit!" I yelled as the boomerang made its return trip, tearing my shirt as it flew past.

She swung high and I ducked. The purple staff glowed like a lightsaber as it passed over me. The damn thing was taller than she was, and looked to be some sort of bean weapon that would feel really awesome if it cracked me upside the head.

I jumped back up and popped her in the jaw with a closed fist.

She staggered, but remained on her feet. She was not only just as tough as Kitana, but she had more range with her weapons.

Suddenly, Kenshi slammed into me and took the both of us to the ground.

I cursed as he fell on top of me. The guy was a lot heavier than he looked.

"Watch it!" I grunted as he rolled off of me.

He was heaving, out of breath and looking even more pale than usual.

"Too fast…" he mumbled. "Too quick and too strong."

"Welcome to my world," I shot back.

I looked up, expecting Jade and Kitana to be on top of us, but both of them had taken a knee and were talking in low voices. We were all tired, and beat up.

"What's next?" Kenshi asked. "I don't know how much longer I can keep this up."

"You and me both, but I think they're getting tired out too. C'mon, if we can get up and give 'em one more good round, I think we'll get out of this," I was not only pleading with him, but with my own body as well. I couldn't drop now, no way.

We rose to our feet and Kenshi drew his Katana and I pulled my combat knife. A sudden burst of motivation had hit both of us, and we were ready for more.

The two of them turned, slowly, and drew their weapons.

Here we go again.

**Hey everyone, sorry for the delay but here you go. Part two of the fight will be up next weekend, and I only realized how long it was once I stepped back and re-read everything LOL, so it had to be broken up into two parts(Man, did that ever take a long time). Please gimme some feedback and have a good one!**


	12. A World Apart

_She's fatigued_

Perspiration stained her blue uniform, forming patches of indigo on the thin blue cloth that sparsely covered her. The fabric, whatever otherworldly material that it was, had been resistant to wear and tear until we had tumbled down the hill. Now the gauntlets that extended from her wrists to her elbow were torn in several places, and bloody wounds were visible beneath. The mask that covered her entire jawline was torn at the corner, exposing her wide cheekbone and a hint of her lips.

Her eyes took on a watery hue as she pressed forward in the fight. She was too tough to cry, but not dehumanized enough not to think about it.

To be honest, I wasn't doing much better.

We had both hurt each other severely, and it was beginning to show. My chest and torso were killing me, and my jaw was throbbing from one of her punches outside the barracks.

The classy blue dress shirt I had recently washed and donned after my morning shower was now completely torn open, and almost no buttons remained. It hung open in the gentle breeze, waving back and forth like a tattered flag. My undershirt below was covered in dirt and several red gashes had materialized. The gashes turned to barbed wire when I tried to take a deep breath, and seared my torso.

But I couldn't quit now, and neither could she.

I studied her for a minute, keeping my hands in front of my throat, palms open and facing her. I had no weapon but my hands and feet. Somehow that comforted me, and I didn't know why. I had dropped my knife in the previous round of fighting, but I could do plenty well without it.

_Severe perspiration and shortness of breath will make her attacks slower and more deliberate. Intense physical and mental conditioning will help her maintain guard of her face and throat with steel fans, and no way am I going to attack anywhere there. By the time my hit will land on her face, she would have taken my hand off. _

I briefly imagined trying to land any sort of hit on her face or neck, and pulling back my arm to find a bloody pulp where my hand had once been.

_Body blows and shots to kidneys, floating ribs, and her stomach are my best option. She's tired out, and so am I. Best option? Wait for her opening attack, which will no doubt be feral, but experienced._

She took careful steps around me, swinging her fans slowly in a sort of dance as she went. I watched her footwork as she maneuvered on the uneven ground. She did a twirl and came around with both weapons extended.

I jumped backwards just in time, and the weapons slashed my forearms instead of my throat. It stung like a mother, but I was still alive. We circled each other menacingly, and I held my knife in a traditional saber drip, giving me some good range when I had the chance to use it.

Her method of fighting was graceful and made it very difficult for me to judge how far away from me she was at any given moment. The princess might be kneeling eight feet away from me in one minute and right on top of me in the next.

_My advantage: Her stress and exhaustion. Kitana's advantage: All attacks will now be more direct maximizing damage and minimizing effort, whether she is meaning to or not. She's undergone advanced physical augmentation and training, and she's going to employ the dirtiest tricks she knows rapid fire to end the contest in a timely manner. And how the hell do I counteract that?_

_I don't know. Just take the punches as they come, I guess._

Jesus, I didn't plan this out well at all did I?

She came at me again.

She kicked high and I dropped down, almost to my knees in front of her. I brought my elbow down and smacked the shin of her outstretched leg, beating the kick back down.

I countered with a punch to her side, just beneath her floating ribs. My entire body pivoted at my hips for maximum power as I drove a closed fist into her lithe body.

She spat up onto the ground, and took the full force of a wild elbow to her jaw in the next instant.

She stumbled and turned completely around. Her movements had slowed down just enough for me to see her left foot come up as she twirled. A familiar and scary motion, especially for someone who had gotten kicked in the face by her the night before.

I ducked just in time.

The back spin kick that would have clipped me across the jaw came full circle, passing through nothing but air as she came back down onto her feet. She was confused about why she didn't make contact, and hesitated for a brief second afterward.

I jumped back up and curled my fingers into a tight fist, swinging it above me in the air, aiming several feet above her head for good measure. I did a complete spin to increase the velocity of the hit and brought the hammerfist into her temple.

In a single moment Kitana had swung, and I had ducked and parried, a lot harder than she had anticipated. The results had been spectacular, if a little bittersweet.

She staggered and fell back, catching herself just before she hit the ground. She was in what resembled a poor push up position on the dry grass covering the hillside, tired and heaving. Instead of jumping back onto her feet like I expected, she stayed there, propping herself up with her arms.

_Was she throwing in the towel? Had I beaten her?_

Kitana hung her head, and her long, smooth hair shifted across her back. The dark waterfall cascaded over her shoulders and obscured her face for a brief instant.

I heard a loud groan. She was in pain, and she was trying to get up.

Both hands went to her stomach as she rose up onto her feet, clutching her traumatized ribs. The look of pain on her face hurt me more than she had, more than she knew.

She stumbled for a second before regaining her footing. She started limping towards me, looking at me with defiant eyes.

"Kitana, look-"

I should have avoided it. I really, really should have.

Somehow the mental image of her right fist coming at my jaw didn't register until _after _impact. Until _after_ was I doubled over, ears ringing from the force of blow. The right cross didn't do as much structural damage to my jaw as much as it brought me to the verge of passing out and face planting on the ground.

Black dots clouded my vision, and threatened to choke out my sight completely.

She got closer, close enough to land all manner of knees and stomps on me, but chose to remain still instead. Her whole body moved as she breathed heavily, satisfied with the hit she had just landed. Her strong shoulders rose and fell, and the feeling of straight on punching me in the face had rejuvenated her.

_Come on Max; don't take that shit from her._

I stood up suddenly, coming around with a straight punch aimed somewhere above her chest.

She stepped to the side and my punch sailed over her left shoulder. We were practically touching each other, and she got even closer when I missed, taking a step into my stance.

She countered with another quick shot, but I was ready for her this time.

I caught her arm in mine and locked her up, positioning my elbow behind hers and holding her in an arm bar. I held her arm tight against my chest, and unleashed hell on the princess.

I used my hips to pivot around in a circular motion, swinging my free hand in a hooking motion at her. But instead of the classic hook to the face, I aimed lower and weakened her side with the first shot, striking her ribs with an open palm.

She exhaled as her tense abs loosened, and we were so close that I could literally feel her breath on my neck as she exhaled.

I then faked high and landed a palm strike on her stomach, traumatizing the area my previous hit had softened up.

She was the one to double over this time, and I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her down, shooting my knee up in the same moment, smashing her chest yet again.

She reeled and fell back, weakened and dazed from the beating.

I threw an elbow with my free hand at her throat, and she blocked with the blade of her forearm. Every time she did that, the thin gauntlet on her arm pressed into mine. It hurt, but didn't quite break my skin. My hand yet again slid past her in an embarrassing display of her advantage in speed and agility.

She wriggled out of my hold, pulling her arm free as my momentum worked against me.

If I could land one more solid hit, then she would go down for good.

She suddenly lashed out with her left foot and kicked me in the shin.

Pain shot up my leg, and I found myself being tackled to the ground a second later. Yeah, that made me feel awesome. A hundred and thirty-odd pound princess taking a 185 pound Army Ranger to the ground, terrific.

I hit the floor. She was on top of me, and raised a fist above her head, ready to bring it down on my face.

_Oh, hell no. Not yet, Max._

I squirmed away and pushed her down onto the grass. Her grip was tight, and I pried her fingers apart to get her to let go already. I lifted my hips up into hers, dislodging the tight-ass grip that her long legs had on my lower body. She went down without a fight this time, slumping to the ground with only a one-handed shove.

I rolled into a sitting position fell on top of the princess, ready to attack yet again.

I tried to lift up my knee and bring it into her cheek, put suddenly I was unable to move. The leg stayed exactly where it had been before, refusing to move an inch.

The awkward position I was in was meant to be a transfer of energy into a hit, but since I had suddenly been put into a stasis, that wasn't happening.

The muscles in my arms and legs seemed to have disappeared, and no more will remained to keep fighting. I collapsed on top of her, unable to fight.

I thought she would break my neck at any moment, but she must have undergone a similar loss of strength.

I finally slumped down, half on top of her, half on the warm grass below. It smelled sweet, or was that just her? My chin was resting on her shoulder, and at the moment I didn't really care.

I closed my eyes and we laid there in the sunlight, too tired and too beaten to attack anymore. I rested my head and right arm on top of her, not because it was comfortable but that it was how I had landed.

And right now my body was done with fighting, maybe next week I would have the strength to lift my arms and throw another hit or two, but right now it was over. I could barely breathe regularly, let alone lift myself up and get off of her.

How ironic, we were so close to each other that anyone else in the world could have killed the other, had they been in our position. But an Outworld assassin and a fugitive street fighter were too wiped out, and I don't think either of us minded.

I could feel her breathing too, deep and labored, as I rested my head on her shoulder. Her heartbeat was decelerating at its own pace, still coming down off of the adrenaline rush from earlier.

I felt a hand on my right shoulder. I closed my eyes, and tried to relax. Her fingers were soft and delicate, yet gripped with the strength of many men as she pushed against my shoulder blade.

_Oh shit, I'm going to get a beating._

But her hand came free, and fell down onto my shoulder in an instant. She was done, as was I.

"Yeah, kind of sucks doesn't it?" I whispered in between breaths. She started giggling, and so did I. Soon we were laughing uncontrollably, and it was made even worse by our futile efforts to stop laughing. For a moment I couldn't breathe, but it was okay.

Sharing the same predicament shouldn't have caused such a fit of laughter, but somehow irony was made funny again.

A long silence followed. No sign of Kenshi or Jade, and I think we were both okay with that. The silence we shared was in many ways better than a conversation, and it showed just how similar we really were.

"I concede," she gasped finally. "The strength I once possessed is now gone, and I'm unsure of what to do next," she said in a quiet voice.

"Well, you and me both. How about this, let's start over." I groaned as I slid my hand down and grasped hers. "Hi, I'm Max."

She hesitated for a moment, unfamiliar with the gesture. She was taking a risk speaking to me, and it was more than likely she would rather ram one of those fans through her own eye socket than speak to an enemy.

Her hand suddenly gripped mine back. I must not be that bad.

"I am Kitana, princess of Outworld. Is Max really your full name, or is it one of those abridged titles?" she asked, appearing interested.

I paused before answering, weighing my options. On one hand, the more I spoke with her, the less I would be inclined to kill her if it came down to it, but on the other hand I really wanted to speak to her.

Guess which one won out.

"Yeah, it is. My name is actually Maxwell Liam Chacon, but that takes too much time to say I guess, so everyone calls me Max." Explaining my name to her actually made me blush, and was both embarrassing and gratifying in the same moment.

"If there is one thing I have learned about your kind, it's that you are always in a hurry," she said. "I mean no offence by it, but why are humans so impulsive?"

"Maybe because we never know when our time is going to be up," I suggested. "You guys from Edenia have a lot longer on Earth, or whatever, than we do. If we miss a chance at something big, our lives are short enough to not be able to fix it. Sometimes we live just long enough to regret our mistakes."

She thought for a moment. "That would certainly make sense. I have studied a great deal of your history, and I have found it to be most intriguing. Wars, schemes, lies, and among all of the chaos there is something else underneath all of it. Humanity? Strength? Culture, maybe? I'm not so sure, but it is a topic that interests me."

"Maybe you could convince Shao Kahn and his boy, Shang Tsung, to let us stick around a little longer, maybe we can come to some sort of agreement-"

"No," she cut me off quickly. "He wants Earth, the symbol of free will and livelihood among the realms. He desires it, and this need for your home has festered, and is now something only he can understand. And when Father desires another realm to conquer, he will not be dissuaded."

Her voice had a twang of sadness to it, the kind that a person expresses when they must do something that they know they are going to regret. She wasn't human, not quite. Raiden had told me as much, but for all of my efforts, I could never think of her as anything less.

I found the strength to roll over and flop back down onto the grass.

"Well in that case, I think we'll just have to win this tournament," I said matter-of-factly.

"I would beware the coming days," she warned. "You stand in the way of powers that are infinitely more powerful than everything you've ever faced, and twice as cunning."

I willed myself into a sitting position, and took a deep breath.

"Thanks for the encouragement."

"I'm just saying!" she spoke louder than she had meant to, and came up in a sitting position next to me. "Be careful, I wouldn't want you to die before we had another chance to fight."

"It was an honor fighting you," I said sincerely.

She shrugged, "Maybe we can do it again sometime."

I laughed, "Yeah, a definite maybe on that one."

I rose to my feet, ever so slowly, and began to walk away. Throwing a pack over my shoulder and traveling in the wilderness on my own was one of the few things I was good at, and not one that I'm proud of. So wishing my enemy a kind farewell and not looking back was about as good as my goodbyes got.

But that's the way it worked. That's how things have always been with me. I don't know that party is over with until somebody tells me, or tries to kill me. And then I simply leave the disaster behind and disappear into a place that doesn't know me yet, all the time trying to decide if anything I did had caused the catastrophe, or if it had simply happened in spite of me.

The muscles in my legs had turned to wood, and were just as pliable. I started walking back down the hill in this stiff fashion, and I heard Kitana giggle behind me as she watched me stumble over my own feet.

I liked her laugh. It was something sweet, something rare and fun to listen to. The only other event that was comparable is the time when you are driving by yourself and you're feeling lonely, only to hear your favorite song over the radio.

I could get used to that sound, but in my heart I knew it could never be.

**Hey everybody! Sorry for the delay, but I'm on a pretty busy schedule right now, and this chapter required a bit more thought on my part than the previous one. Again, I want to add some depth to people like Kitana, Kenshi, and the others. Their characters have a lot of potential and a lot of flaws, and that's definitely something I would like to expand on.**

**P.S. About the last chapter, I seriously had to give Sonya a costume from one of the previous games becuase... well... you know. And Kenshi's revenge plot is definitely going to be a recurring theme in the story. Somehow he reminds me of Inigo Montoya from the Princess Bride, but I digress.**

**And I wanted to capture how a conversation would go between two people who don't really know what to think of each other yet, and I hope you enjoyed it.**

**Updates are coming soon!**


	13. Cooldown

"Kenshi!"

The sound of his name shook the swordsman from his trance.

"Lieutenant Blade," he said without turning around. He could hear her heavy footsteps as the soles of her combat boots crashed into the smooth tile flooring of his room. Her breathing was barely audible, and the duration of her strides told him that she was moving slowly, deliberately towards him.

She had no fragrance, ironically, and didn't have much of a telling scent like most others at the tournament possessed. If she were able to walk a little quieter, she may have been able to kill him before he knew what had happened.

But something was on her mind, and it was serious.

She stepped out onto the balcony of Kenshi's room, where the swordsman was seated in a comfortable reclining chair. His wounds from the fight earlier today were now bandaged and patched up, but she knew that they were far from healed.

His fight with Jade had been close, and had nearly gotten him killed. The slashes on his arms and torso were severe, and the hits he had taken to his jaw and midsection hadn't been any less painful. Jade had fled into the trees when he had been about to kill her, and he was unable to pursue due to his own wounds.

But he had won, and that was the important thing. The tightness and painful feelings of a fight lingered in his muscles, and promised to be worse in the morning. But that was okay.

He was still alive.

She took a seat next to him in an identical chair, folding her legs and taking a deep breath.

"Before you patronize me about pursuing Baraka, Lieutenant Blade, please remember that it was your own desire for revenge that brought you here." He spoke the truth calmly, with a self-righteous sort of monotone that she would no doubt challenge.

He folded his hands and pressed them against his forehead, gently massaging the massive bruise that had formed from a direct _thwack_ of Jade's staff. He could only imagine how it looked to Sonya.

"Before you try to one-up me, Kenshi, remember that Kano is my mission, and you agreed to help me catch or kill him before the tournament was over," Sonya shot back in an icy voice.

"As I recall, we just got finished with the preliminary rounds, so I do not think we are pressed for time just yet," Kenshi said, still facing away from her.

"No we aren't. But your desire to kill Shang Tsung has gotten the better of you," Sonya said flatly. "You endangered both your life and Chacon's today by pursuing him."

"What I did was of no consequence to you," he hissed back. "He made the decision to follow me on his own. So why are you here?"

"You're wild, Kenshi. Jax and I retrained you to fight as a blind man, and you excelled in the program, dealing with several of our adversaries swiftly and with tact.

"You were everything we needed you to be. You were brave, reliable, and most of all, you never hesitated when it came time to kill. We appreciate that. You even saved my life once, in Guatemala, I memory serves me correctly-"

"What's your point?" Kenshi demanded.

"My point is that you were the best asset we had, but you don't know when to quit. You don't know that the mission is already over; the project terminated, the files erased, the loose ends… dealt with."

The last statement echoed in Kenshi's mind.

"Am I one of your loose ends, Lieutenant?" he asked cautiously.

He sensed Sento resting on the ground beside him, but he would have to lean way over the edge of the chair to obtain it. In the time it would take him to get his weapon, Sonya would have already started beating him.

He was in no condition to fight, and he could barely stand up straight, let alone hold his own against a Special Forces officer. Jade had wisely slashed both of his arms before fleeing, making it nearly impossible to do block or throw punches with either, at least until he healed.

He felt vulnerable in the face of this woman, and he didn't like it.

"Whether or not you are a loose end is totally up to you. You can choose to help me, or you can choose to have a slip and fall over the edge of the balcony-"

"You wouldn't kill me," Kenshi said defiantly. "You can't, everyone will know."

"Actually the fresh bruises you would get in the fight would be nearly indistinguishable from the ones you have now. With your blindness and unstable mind, it wouldn't be far fetched to believe that you fell over the edge," Sonya said in a frighteningly casual voice.

"And what if I need help, you ask? Chacon will do the job of taking in Kano. He's well trained, and all it would take to motivate him would be offering him his freedom back," Sonya finished.

No doubt she had planned this out before coming here, Kenshi thought. It was a no-win scenario: If he chose to help her, the injustice done to his ancestors would go unpunished, and if he didn't, he would face certain death.

"What do you want, Sonya?" Kenshi finally asked, fed up with his life being talked about in such a way.

"I want your cooperation. Total. Complete. Cooperation. Understand? Nobody in the real world cares about what Shang Tsung is or what he can do. He might be God of this place, but that is only on this little picturesque island that nobody else has ever heard of. He's harmless. He isolates himself here and doesn't leave, and that's enough for me.

"But Kano is a terrorist. He is a killer, and he _will _take more lives if we don't stop him. But I can't take him on my own, and since you don't want to cooperate with me anymore because you have finally found the man that has taken away your life, I may have to resort to some… extreme measures."

"I'm in, but I don't have to like it," Kenshi said coolly. He had agreed to help her when he had first arrived, but he had since given up on accompanying her on her hikes into the mountains of the island. Her incessant spying had netted no viable results, and he was growing tired of her obsession with revenge.

He had more important things on his mind.

But Kenshi decided right then and there that when this tournament was over, Sonya Blade would be his next target.

"Alright then," she patted her knees and stood up in front of him.

"And for the record, I didn't want to have to do that, but sometimes we can't be heroes, you know? Sometimes to catch a monster you have to… maybe embrace what makes you most powerful. And what makes us most powerful isn't always pretty, understand?"

"Oh don't worry," Kenshi said through gritted teeth. "I understand perfectly."

MKMKMK

"You look like hell," Johnny Cage laughed as he stumbled onto the balcony of our quarters. He was wearing a black dinner jacket with a deep purple undershirt, and adjusting his prized sunglasses. In one hand he held a pair of longneck beers and the other he was clutching an icepack.

He tossed the latter to me, and took a seat in the chair next to mine.

I was resting my battered self in a very comfortable chair and watching the evening turn into the night as the sun began to set over the horizon. Every shade of orange and a few of indigo and blue streaked up into the sky like spilled paint, and mixed spectacularly. Of all the sunsets I had seen, this one might have been one of the best. Set against the dark backdrop of the jungle, it looked captivating.

I was shirtless, wearing only a pair of baggy gym shorts that Cage had let me borrow when I had finally made it back. I had been on the verge of keeling over when Stryker and Nightwolf helped me into the barracks. Kenshi had somehow found his way back a few minutes before I had, allegedly winning his fight with Jade by the skin of his teeth.

The few hours after that were a complete blur. I remember wolfing down some kind of exotic food, being bandaged up and given a few painkillers, and finally falling into a padded seat on a balcony that was just off of the common room in our quarters.

After I had repeated what had happened with the whole Kitana and Jade fiasco a few times, I got updates. The preliminary rounds that had taken place were a mixed bag. On one hand, Johnny Cage and I had advanced in the bracket last night with wins over Reptile and Kano, respectively.

Liu Kang had dominated Sheeva, who Johnny Cage attempted to describe to me later. But after getting across that she had four arms, he simply said that he "Wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole." Stryker had won against Baraka, and was still recovering from the fight. Nightwolf had worked his magic (literally I think, because everyone who had been wounded, including myself, was recovering faster than normally possible) with the tough cop and his knife wounds were already healing.

A new fighter named Scorpion, who apparently was a former assassin resurrected to serve the ruler of Hell, had severely beaten Nightwolf and Sonya Blade consecutively, and demanded a bout with Sub Zero tomorrow. They appeared to have a history together, and whatever had happened would be settled in the ring, tomorrow at dawn.

Kung Lao, another Shaolin monk, had just arrived and was catching up with Liu Kang. He was to fight tomorrow, and Raiden wasn't too pleased about that.

Despite the turmoil going on around me, I was completely and utterly chilled out. The muscles in my body were still so tight that they hurt, and were only now beginning to show signs of relaxing. The soft island breeze on my bare chest felt _so_ good, and my raging headache was fading fast.

So far so good, but I'll give it another day or two before I try and fight again.

"Thanks, Johnny," I nodded, applying the ice pack to the side of my jaw, which was probably ten shades of blue from when Kitana had nailed me across the face. The pressure began to fade almost immediately, and the cold against my jaw was refreshing.

I closed my eyes as the eutrophic feeling washed over me.

"Better?" he asked. I nodded again.

"Thanks, Johnny. I owe you one."

"Yeah, I'll put it on your tab," he said in a voice that was so full of charisma that I had trouble taking it seriously. But truthfully, he had provided me with another pair of pants and a nice shirt from his vast wardrobe. I felt like a mooch accepting it from him, and I tried to think of a way to pay him back.

"I swear I'll pay for it," I said in a stern tone. "In one way or another."

He waved his hand nonchalantly. "Nah, don't worry about it. But tell me something though, how do you keep getting into fights outside of the tournament with this chick? I mean, are you two-"

"No," I cut him off abruptly. "She's not on our side Johnny, and for the record that narrow win earlier today counted in the tournament bracket."

"I mean, I think she's hot myself man. She's a great fighter and she's got a great pair of legs-"

"Alright," I cut him off abruptly, secretly a little bit annoyed that he found her attractive. "Let's talk about something other than getting our asses kicked for a few minutes."

"Okay then," he shrugged nonchalantly.

"So how did you get this gig?" I asked him.

"Oh, you know," he said in a mock humble voice. "I got a special invitation after I got finished with Ninja Mime. It congratulated me on advancing to such a high level of martial arts, and said that a tournament was being held here. The best fighters in the world, and that the winner would be the undisputed champion of them all… so I said "hell yeah", and caught the first flight I could."

"So you're here for the glory?"

"Sure enough, and you?" he asked.

"I'm here for lack of options," I said, and we both laughed.

He passed me a beer. "Here, drink up."

"Thanks Johnny," I nodded and cracked it open.

There was a long pause as we sat there watching the sun go down in the distance. I didn't mind.

"So what do you think of all this?" he asked me.

I set the bottle down. "All of what, man?"

"Oh, you know. This alliance thing we have going. It sounded good when everybody got here, but I don't think it'll do us much good in the long run," he said.

"Well, I can't hurt, right?" I asked. "I mean, we got to Stryker in time when he was wounded, and you all got to me and Kenshi in time when we were hurt, so I don't think it's too bad."

"Yeah, but it just seems like the whole thing is made out of cards," he said in an exasperated voice. He set his drink down. "I mean it looks good, but when the times get tough it'll crumble, and when it does there will be no way to put it back together again."

I shook my head. "You think too much, Johnny. We'll come out alright in the end. I've got your back."

"What about you and Stryker though?" he asked suddenly. "He wants you in handcuffs when this is over, and for a cop he's pretty smart. And he has a gun."

"Stryker is an honest cop," I admitted. "He's a ruthless hunter, but he's all about justice. He won't break any arms for information, but he won't hesitate to break both of mine to bring me in.

"I don't know, I might be able to get the jump on him and find a way out of here before he knows I'm gone, but I think he's expecting that already. I'll have to watch myself."

"No, what I meant is that would you have his back if he was in a fight too? Would you help him out?" Johnny leaned forward, waiting for an answer.

I took a deep breath. "I would certainly like to, Johnny. But I'm not incorruptible like he is. If it came down to it, I don't know what I would do yet."

Another long silence, this one was very uncomfortable for both of us.

"Let me tell you a story," I started. "A long time ago, me and Kurtis Stryker were brothers in arms. He and I were both soldiers, hell we even shared a foxhole during the Angola campaign back in '05. But after the war was over, he became a cop, and his first assignment was to find and capture me.

"They told me that I was a war criminal, but I've never shot a non-combatant in my life. I had no idea what the exact charges were, just that I had to leave before I was put in irons. The way I figured it, somebody had messed up, bad. And they needed someone to take the rap for it. I can almost guarantee you that I wasn't the only one that was charged, but I think I'm the only one who hasn't been apprehended just yet.

"That was seven years ago. INTERPOL has a picture of me on one of their top ten lists somewhere, and since Stryker knew me better than anyone, he gets called in as a consultant whenever they start digging for me. The depressing thing is that I never knew what happened back in Africa, only that it can't be undone. Never. I would like it to, John, but the world just doesn't work like that."

"I'm sorry I asked," he said quietly. "But for what it's worth, I'm glad you're here and not somewhere else."

"Ha, thanks. It's good to have you here too, Cage."

He stood up. "Okay then, since the sob fest is over, I'm gonna hit the hay. See you tomorrow, and try not to get beat up by Kitana in the meantime. Or if you do, at least get her phone number."

"Aw, shut up. I won that fight!" I shouted back, but he was already gone, his laughter echoing through the hallway.

I heard the door slam shut. He had left.

I sighed and let my head rest on the back of the chair.

I passed out, and fell into a dreamless slumber.

MKMKMK

Shang Tsung was very upset. The scowl on his wrinkled face was hideous, and made Kitana feel even more like a failure than she had before.

She and Jade were bowing to the sorcerer in his chambers, explaining the events of the day in the most positive way that they could, but she and Jade both knew that it was fruitless.

Quan Chi was leaning against the wall next to them, shaking his head. The pale former Oni cut an imposing figure in the dim torchlight. He was 6'7", and at least two hundred pounds of solid muscle to match. Jade had once told Kitana that he didn't require any sleep, and therefore worked out for nine hours. Per day.

It was unbelievable, and he was now able to swing a great broadsword like most people could swing a small stick. He was freakishly ambitious, and his all of his fighting moves could be done with or without swords.

The sheer amount of physical fitness he did put Jade and Kitana to shame, who were in peak condition and spent almost all of their time either running, hiking, and doing calisthenics, or practicing martial arts.

In addition to black magic, he was a seasoned practitioner of Eskrima, a Filipino method of stick fighting. And all of this gave his words considerable weight.

"Why does Shao Kahn send his daughters to assist us if all they do is get in the way?" he wondered aloud in his deep, bass voice.

"We have done more to the Emperor than you ever have!" Jade shot back.

"Watch your tone!" Quan Chi warned. "I have been a valuable asset to Shao Kahn since before you were born!"

"Enough," Shang Tsung's raspy voice stopped all of them in their tracks. "It has been decided: Jade, Kitana, your roles in the coming days will be reduced to support and espionage only. You _will_ face an official inquiry when we return to Outworld. Then it will be decided if it is worth the trouble to employ you."

He turned to Quan Chi. "And you, you will fight tomorrow with Ermac, and we will put the humans in their place, once and for all."

Quan Chi bowed. "As you wish, my lord."

Shang Tsung turned to Jade and Kitana, and they reluctantly followed suit before walking out.

Kitana was furious. She deserved better from that old man. Someday, she would prove it.

But not today.

**Hi everyone, I hope you all had a wonderful weekend!**

**A note on the characters: Sonya isn't just going to be an angst character in the story, she is a Special Forces operative, and isn't afraid to threaten or harass someone like Kenshi to get what she wants. However, a proud swordsman like Kenshi might not take too kindly to that…**

**And people like Ermac and Quan Chi will be just as good as if not better fighters than Kitana and Jade. **

**Quan Chi is very old, and has had eons to practice his style, and build his strength to a superhuman level. And Ermac (Who I'm not just going to have lift everybody up and toss them around, that's as cheap as hell) is several different fighters put together, and therefore has access to multiple fighting disciplines and has the strength and agility to employ them. **

**Hope you liked this chapter, stay tuned and have a great week!**


	14. The Only Easy Day

I was the first one to wake up in the morning.

My eyes opened quickly, and the heaviness and fatigue that weighed on them last night had dissipated, worn away by a solid ten hours of sleep. I was wide awake, surprisingly, and felt refreshed.

The pre-dawn semidarkness was easy on my eyes, and a cool island breeze kept up a dull pace on its way around the mountain, doing wonders on my bare chest in the process.

I rose from my chair and worked my muscles gently, trying to get a feel for how much today's workout was going to hurt from last night's beating.

First my legs. My shins and calves felt a few sizes too big and were pulled tight around my bones. No doubt from tumbling down the steep hillside and landing wrong. But I would live.

The rest of me was doing a little better. My chest was sore from the fight, and there was a dull ache in my jaw from being hit across the mouth, but nothing was actually that bad. Before I went to sleep, I had imagined myself not even being able to move when morning came.

But I was starting to lean Nightwolf's way, and the wonders he could do for people's wounds in such a short time. I wonder how Stryker was doing right about now, or Johnny Cage, or even Kitana.

People were getting hurt, and patience around here seemed to be wearing thin, no matter who I talked to. Liu Kang didn't seem to think that I was disciplined nearly enough to complete the tourney, and Stryker seemed to be biding his time, frequently checking the bracket and watching me out of the corner of his eye while he did. He wanted to stop chasing me as soon as this was over, and so did I.

The morning fog at the corners of my eyes disappeared as I heard soft footsteps behind me. Not the kind that was naturally soft because the individual was small in stature. But ones that were quiet because somebody _wanted_ to tread softly.

Oh God, somebody was here. The hairs on my arms stood up and my blood froze.

I turned.

"Raiden!" I almost yelled in surprise. "You scared the hell out of me."

He approached me, clad in his ivory-colored uniform and oriental hat. He was imposing in figure, getting taller and broader by the day it seemed.

"Apologies, and good morning," he nodded.

"Don't worry about it," I shrugged it off as my heart rate started to slow. "So… did you get some sleep?"

He stepped to the side and looked out over the balcony at the first glimpse of sunrise. "Yes, a little bit I think. I'm glad you're awake, there is something we must discuss."

"Okay, shoot," I folded my arms and leaned against the balcony railing, ready for a lecture.

"Liu Kang has spoken with me, and is concerned that you lack the skills necessary to complete the tournament," he said frankly, his bright blue eyes boring into my own. "He says that you are a great fighter, and your skills in unarmed combat are impressive, but that you are not as physically adept as you could be."

This should have surprised me, it really should have. But for some reason I didn't find it shocking that he had lost confidence in me.

I wanted to tell Raiden that Liu Kang was very arrogant for a monk, but that would be extremely petty, even more so than usual in the eyes of Raiden, who happened to be Liu Kang's mentor. So I kept my big mouth shut.

"He is worried about your frequent wanderings, and the fact that you have encountered Shao Kahn's top assassins; Kitana and Jade, on a regular basis-"

I broke out laughing. "Is that really what this about? Seriously, if he thinks that for one second that I'm friends with Shang Tsung's girls, then he can forget about it. I followed Kenshi and broke up the fight before he got killed, and then I beat Kitana, but chose not to finish her. Liu Kang would have done the same thing. And I'm correct, then his Shaolin code prevents him from killing-"

"In a normal fight yes," a voice said from over my shoulder. I almost jumped; Liu Kang was less than a meter from me when he revealed himself. "But in Mortal Kombat, we are fighting a war with Outworld, and sometimes you cannot win a war with you honor intact. My masters told me this before I arrived here."

I turned to him. "Maybe, but I've fought in a war before, and usually there's no honor to begin with when the shooting starts, and none when it finally stops. But this is different."

He folded his tree-trunk arms across his chest. "How so? How is this different from an all-out frenzy?"

I wanted to tell him that he had never served in the military, never spent the night in a foxhole, or that he had probably never gone hungry in the middle of a piping-hot jungle. But I didn't. I wasn't that brave.

"This is a tournament, Liu. We're trying to save the world, and so far we're on the right track. And think of it this way; the less fatalities we dish out, the less likely Shao Kahn's fighters are to come after us with a vengeance. Do you see where I'm coming from?" I asked desperately. I completely made that up, and I hoped that he didn't know how to spot a lie.

He nodded. "I get the concept, and I understand that you might not want to take a life, but sacrifices have to be made in times of war. I just hope that you will be prepared to make the hard choice when the time comes."

"You don't have to worry about me, Liu," I said, clapping him on the shoulder. I was close to gritting my teeth in frustration. He had no idea what sacrifice meant, and something told me he would receive a rude awakening when the time came for him to make one of his own.

"Let's just watch each other's backs a little closer from now on, okay?" I asked, feeling the tension in my shoulders disappear as I diverted the conversation.

"Very good." He turned to Raiden. "I must prepare for today's events, master. Excuse me."

He and Raiden bowed to each other, and Liu left silently. I couldn't help but feel extremely out of place.

Raiden turned to me and laughed. "You can go too, Max. Run along and try not to get into any more trouble."

I nodded and headed for the door. Well, that was over, and not a second too soon.

"No promises!" I shouted over my shoulder as I walked out the door.

MKMKMK

After morning calisthenics and stretching with Liu, who was unquestionably more flexible than I was, we joined the other kombatants for breakfast in the mess hall. The mess hall was a little closer to the Outworld barracks than I was comfortable with, and I couldn't help but wonder if our food was being tampered with somehow.

I worked my arms from side to side, sorting out the kinks in my muscles as I took a seat next to Johnny Cage, putting a good couple of meters me and Stryker, who had popped a squat next to Sonya and Sub Zero.

Cage was wearing his signature pitch black shades in the dimly-lit dining hall, refusing to sacrifice style for practicality and common sense. He looked oddly relaxed, and was quiet for a change; saying nothing as he devoured his eggs.

In fact the whole place was blanketed in somber silence. The sound of silverware scraping dishes and the occasional cough were all that was audible throughout breakfast.

The food was delicious, and the warm flavors of bacon, eggs, and a lot of foods I didn't recognize, flooded my taste buds. Therapy for my body, and an end to my raging appetite. Poisoned or not, it was worth every bite.

And I think everyone else would agree.

We were all thinking about today, about fighting, and how close each of us was to certain death. The preliminary rounds were over; the weak kids on the block were no longer around to beat on. Only the toughest of us were left, and I prayed that I wouldn't have to face anything like Reptile or Sheeva, or any other abomination that the Emperor brought forth.

I secretly wished to be someplace else, someplace different, for a brief instant as I took in a swig of cool water. The thought of being disabled for life was not very appealing.

But I had to be strong, stronger than my opponent. I had to rely on my cunning and determination to win. I thought about how many times I had been knocked around in the past few days, all the punches and kicks and grappling. All the violence and blood I had seen.

They hurt, but they made me stronger. I had showed everyone here that I was not going to give up, even when faced with certain death. And I wasn't one to go back on my promises.

Suddenly Raiden raised an empty glass. "Best of luck to each of you today. And remember, we _will _prevail in this tournament. Not because of our aspirations for greatness, or our desire to prove that we are better than our rivals, but because we have billions of lives counting on us for salvation. They will never know what you did here, or the incredible courage that each and every one of you has displayed thus far.

"But fear not, for all kombatants chosen to compete will receive nothing less than eternal glory for your strength and skill, your cunning and bravery. All of you will be rewarded… in this life, or the next."

"Hoo-rah!" Stryker yelled, and everyone joined in.

We all yelled from deep inside ourselves, letting go of the fear in a wild chant that lasted minutes. We were on our feet, unafraid, and ready to face the coming trials. I felt the energy of _good_ coursing through me, and my fellow warriors felt it too.

I was sure we would win. Not because of our individual aspirations, but because we had so much to fight for. So much worth dying for.

MKMKMK

Tribal drumbeats shook the island. A deep bass rhythm flowed from the ground and up into my body. A ruthless, sharp tempo that made my heart skip a couple of beats. A double tap rhythm was smashed in perfect unison by drums that were scattered across the island.

The feel of a fight in the making felt surreal, and suddenly my arms were soft and my legs could barely support me. If it wasn't so crazy, I might have been dreaming.

We were all on edge, tensed up and ready for anything. All of us entered the kombat staging area in a crowd, with Raiden and Liu Kang leading the way. Raiden's deep blue and ivory robe practically glowed in the dark; and by dark, I mean the shadows cast by the storm clouds billowing overhead. The early afternoon light had been blotted out by the blackened tufts of vapor looming overhead.

Ominous, intriguing even. But I liked the dark overcast, and the cool air billowing all around was a nice contrast to the crushing heat and humidity of the jungle. If this was the best Shang Tsung could do, then I'm afraid all he did was waste his energy.

Sub Zero was next to me, also looking up at the view. His eyes were a deep blue, and strangely void of emotion. I tried to remember what faction he represented, but it slipped my mind.

I tapped Sub Zero on the shoulder. He looked over and exhaled in the same moment, sending an icy chill in my direction. Probably unintentional, but still a little irritating.

I pointed up. "Pretty cool effects, huh? I like how he thinks he can scare us."

Sub Zero turned and spoke in a grave voice. "Don't underestimate him… but yes, it is very petty indeed."

He turned back around and we all strutted forward in silence. I didn't really know Sub Zero, and we had almost nothing in common. I guess he was a man of few words, and I certainly wasn't going to try and mess with him.

A light rain had begun by the time we reached an enclosed space, tickling the back of my neck and splashing on the uneven pavement underfoot. Strangely soothing. Strangely prophetic.

We kept up our brisk, deliberate pace all the way to the fighting grounds. A building with a classic pointed roof and equally pointed corners loomed in front of us, painted black, with bright red highlights crisscrossing the walls. A blood-red set of massive doors were in front of us, reminding me of the thick, seemingly impenetrable doors on a medieval castle.

Raiden was not as impressed as I was, walking until he had nearly hit the door before shooting his arms out and throwing it open. The door gave without a fight, and Raiden's unprecedented show of strength surprised me.

I noticed his muscles ripple beneath his robes as he took a deep breath, continuing forward with all of us in tow. Completely badass and he knew it.

At the opposite end of the room was an ornate throne, the armrests carved in the shape of dragons, with spines protruding from every possible location on their slender backs, which disappeared as they merged with the back of the chair.

Shang Tsung was seated in the chair, his frail form covered in green robes that crisscrossed each other all the way down to his feet. I couldn't read his expression, but I could guess it was somewhere between contempt and anticipation; which left a hell of a lot of open territory, especially for someone who had been alive and scheming his way into power for hundreds of years.

It only then occurred to me that this round would be even less fair than the last, and that he was going to use every dirty trick in the book to stop us from advancing in the bracket.

I had to be ready for it. I was not only facing my opponent, but the wrath of a bastardized referee as well.

The Outworld fighters suddenly poured in from behind Shang Tsung's throne, flanking wide left and right on either sides of his chair as they stepped down onto the hardwood floor. I saw Scorpion, who bore a suspicious resemblance to Sub Zero, marching down to Shang Tsung's right. Everything about him was seething, like his rage was about to burst out of him and burn the whole building down. Much of his body was hidden under golden and black armor.

He was followed by a pale, imposing figure that dwarfed even Raiden in height and muscle tone. He was shirtless, showing off an impossibly ripped physique, with abs in places that they probably shouldn't have been. He wore a dull amulet on his belt, and was tattooed with cryptic symbols in his face and shoulders. Everything about him was unnatural, from the lack of hair on any part of his body to the way he carried himself, a self-satisfied strut, past the Sorcerer and beside Scorpion.

They were followed by a pair of men in obscenely conspicuous suits of armor. One man was obviously of Asian descent with long, smooth hair and a uniform that looked to be several pieces of armor fixed together. A waistcoat extended down from his padded shoulders to his knee-high combat boots, and was painted bright red with shiny black accents. He was tall and lean, and looked to have a wide array of weapons on his belt; a bright red utility harness that was even more noticeable than his armor.

He walked in stride with another man, a powerfully built black man wearing what appeared to be the same armor, only colored a faded yellow. He was much stockier, and appeared to have a lot more weapons than his friend. His hair was pulled tight behind his head, and also walked with a very aloof sense of purpose.

I already didn't like either of them.

From the left came Jade in a very revealing uniform that looked suspiciously like swimwear, followed by Kitana, who was masked and wearing a bright blue leotard. Our eyes met for a brief instant, and I saw that her gaze was fierce with some type of anger that twisted her entire eye line. Her face remained masked, making her even harder to read than usual.

Her gaze softened somewhat, and was replaced by something else as she averted her eyes back towards my companions. I wonder what was wrong. What had happened after she and Jade had returned after being defeated?

_Hell hath no fury_…

Behind them entered a final combatant. His eyes glowed bright green behind his head, which was wrapped in a black turban. All of his uniform was the color of charcoal, with a few dull shades of color mixed in.

I tapped Sub Zero on the shoulder.

"Who are they, the men in the colored uniforms, and the white guy?" I whispered.

He held his stare at the throne as he whispered back. "The two are Cyrax and Sektor, fellow Lin Kuei who sold their services to the Sorcerer."

"What? You mean they're from your clan, but they're working against us?"

"Not exactly. They are loyal to me, but won't hesitate to kill anyone else if ordered."

_Son of a bitch_, I cursed silently. So much for being a team, huh?

"And the pale one is called Quan Chi, a former _Oni_; a demon from the Netherrealm. He is a sorcerer, and is in some ways more dangerous than Shang Tsung. He used to be like an ape, they said, roaming the wastes of Hell looking for souls to torture.

"But he quickly gained an understanding and mastery of Black Magic. He ascended from the rest and took on a more… human form. He is very dangerous.

"And I do not know the other," he finished.

"Behold!" Shang Tsung rasped, gesturing an arm at the man dressed in black. "Ermac! The product of many souls in a single form. You should be in awe."

Raiden remained unphased. "The only thing that impresses me is your capacity for deceit, sorcerer. You cannot throw new warriors into the tournament on a whim."

"Oh, but I can, Raiden. This is _my_ tournament, and your Elder Gods choose to remain silent, and as their emissary, so should you," he said flatly. "Let us begin!"

I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Johnny.

"You thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Probably not."

"That we should just rush them as a mob and knock them out while they're not expecting it?" he hissed.

"It may have crossed my mind," I replied, thinking about how that scenario would play out.

"It would be foolish," Nightwolf said, stepping in between us. "Even though we are greater in number, many would perish in the chaos. In addition, the Elder Gods would be enraged at our treachery, and may just let Outworld absorb Earthrealm out of anger."

"You're right. Bad idea," Johnny agreed. I remained silent.

"First fight will be…" he paused, looking around at our motley crew.

"Liu Kang!" he yelled. Liu stepped forward, getting a pat on the back by Sonya as he broke away from the crowd.

"And Sektor!"

The warrior in red stepped forward, bobbing and weaving as he met Kenshi in the wide gap in the middle of the two crowds.

Sektor was a few inches taller than Liu Kang, but looked like he weighed significantly less.

Sektor and Liu Kang squared off in the middle of the chamber, and we all backed the hell up to give them room to do battle.

_Kick his ass, Liu_, I almost whispered.

Sektor pounded his own chest proudly while Liu Kang watched silently, arms folded in front of him.

"I am Lin Kuei!" he announced. "I will show you no mercy, Shaolin!"

Liu Kang remained still, unintimidated by his opponent's bravado.

"Fight!" Shang Tsung yelled.

Sektor moved so fast I had trouble tracking him.

He launched a straight punch at Liu, aiming for his throat with a gloved fist.

I was only able to figure this out because Liu Kang had moved even faster, stepping back and grabbing Sektor's wrist, and holding his arm out in front of him with an iron grip.

Sektor looked confused, unable to believe what had just happened.

"No mercy? You can do better than that?" Liu Kang taunted, giving Sektor a soft push before taking up a fighting stance.

Sektor clenched his teeth, seething with anger and embarrassment.

He let out a yelp and came at Liu Kang again, lunging through the air and closing the gap between them.

Sektor swung his leg in a low arc, aiming for Liu Kang's legs, but Liu jumped and avoided the sweep.

Sektor followed up with another straight punch to Liu Kang's head, but hit nothing save for the air that it passed through.

Liu Kang ducked a second and weaved around a third punch before delivering one of his own; a hard right hook that crashed into Sektor's jaw, just below the ear.

Liu Kang stepped forward off of his own momentum and smashed a second punch into Sektor's chest.

Sektor stumbled, but his hard chest piece prevented anything more than a bruise.

Liu Kang launched a roundhouse kick at Sektor's ribs, trying to hit him before he moved back out of range.

Sektor tucked and rolled over his right shoulder, resulting in only a grazing blow from the powerful kick.

Sektor was back on his feet, bobbing and weaving before Liu Kang could land another attack. Liu backed up and got onto the balls of his feet, fully committed to the battle.

They circled each other, dukes up and ready to go.

The seconds seemed like minutes as they slowly closed the distance between them.

Suddenly, Liu Kang appeared to be on fire, jumping forward and defying physics to deliver a hard kick to Sektor's head.

The look on the assassin's face was priceless.

Sektor flew back and into a round pillar, smashing the fine wood to splinters with his lower back. He was dazed for several seconds, looking around from a sitting position, probably wondering what the hell had just happened.

But in a moment he was back on his feet.

He ducked another roundhouse kick from Liu Kang, letting the monk's foot sail over his head before countering.

Sektor swung a left hook, then a right, and was stopped both times at the wrist by Liu Kang's broad forearms, which were eclipsing his head and neck in a defensive position.

Sektor pulled back and rocketed a fist upward at Liu's chin.

He missed.

Liu Kang leaned back from his standing position, arching his back at an impossible angle to avoid the uppercut, his long hair grazing the floorboards beneath him, before coming back up with a straight kick at Sektor's stomach.

Sektor blocked the attack with a desperate forearm before jumping to the left and resetting his stance.

I saw his left hand go to his wrist gauntlet, or what I thought to be a wrist gauntlet anyway, and pressed a button.

A tongue of orange flames erupted from his arm and toward Liu Kang.

Liu ducked and somersaulted backwards to avoid the burst of fire.

Sektor went on the offensive yet again, leading with a wild spinning back kick, which was blocked, and came back around in an arc with the flamethrower.

But Liu was ready for him.

He crouched low and smashed both of his fists into Sektor's stomach, which was unprotected by his armored suit.

Sektor crumpled, activating the flamethrower.

Liu grabbed him by the arm and stepped into his stance, popping Sektor up off of his feet and throwing the ninja to the floor.

Sektor sailed over Liu Kang's shoulder, a desperate jet of fire arcing as he hit the wood so hard he broke several boards.

But Liu Kang didn't let go, grabbing his forearm with both hands and pressing it back down into Sektor's chest, flamethrower still blazing.

Sektor cried out in pain as he was scorched by the weapon. The torch soon stopped, but the pain didn't.

Sektor's chest was covered in flaming napalm, and burnt through his chest piece like it was made of canvas.

The speed at which Liu Kang retreated from his fallen opponent was matched only by the speed of which Cyrax, the other Lin Kuei, was at his friend's side.

Cyrax ripped off his shirt and started beating the flames desperately.

Sub Zero sprinted over almost as quickly, dousing his fallen comrade with bursts of ice from his fingertips.

I couldn't believe it. I looked away from the horrible sight and back at Liu Kang, who seemed equally amazed that it had actually worked.

He took a knee as Sektor was tended to by his fellow fighters.

I looked over at the rest of our crowd, who were all over the map with their reactions. Sonya Blade flinched for an instant, but maintained her steely gaze. Kenshi and Nightwolf remained expressionless, and Johnny and I were gaping at the sight. Kung Lao and Raiden were somewhat impressed, and Stryker looked to be resisting the urge to intervene and provide first aid.

Shan Tsung looked like he was about to explode with anger.

"Liu Kang wins," he snarled through gritted, yellow teeth. "Flawless victory."

We applauded Liu Kang as he rejoined our ranks.

I patted him on the shoulder. "Wow," I said simply as he walked past me.

I heard other praise for the quick and brutal fight as I watched Sektor's burnt body get carried away on a stretcher by several masked guards, followed closely by the other Lin Kuei.

"Next fight!" Shang Tsung roared.

"Max Chacon versus Ermac!"

This should be interesting.

**Hey everybody! Sorry for the delay, I've so been busy with family and work lately that I haven't had time to sit down and write. Happy Easter!**

**A little note: First off, I'm trying to make Liu Kang a little more interesting than he was in any of the MK games by giving him a somewhat smug attitude, and given that fact that he is a monk, he doesn't know how the world works quite yet like characters like Sonya and Chacon do. He isn't a villain or a sadist, he is just a better fighter than many of his comrades and he knows it. Things are about to get interesting, and right about now the story is going to start to diverge pretty significantly from MK9.**

**Keep reading! Updates are coming!**


	15. Raging Storm

The man in black was even more intimidating up close. _Ermac_, Shang Tsung had called him. The souls of many fused together in a single form. To say that the thought of facing him in mortal kombat scared me was a grave understatement.

I was a few inches taller than him, and we looked to be of about the same weight, but I didn't trust my eyes on this one. I've seen men much less imposing do tons of damage, and Ermac wouldn't be here if he wasn't one of the best fighters around.

I stepped forward, buttoning up my dress shirt and planting my feet on the hardwood flooring, taking several calming breaths. I wanted to appear fearless in the face of my new opponent, in hopes that I would possibly strike fear into him.

But clad in a heavily-armored chest piece that looked to be made of something like leather, a turban pulled tightly around his cranium, and large green orbs pulsing in the places where his eyes should have been, he looked _just a little_ intimidating. He wore red and black pants that looked to be made of a lighter, more flexible material than his ancient-looking armor, and appeared to be covered from head to toe in black.

Why hide all of himself under that outfit, I wondered. Was he truly hideous, crisscrossed with scars or deformities from his demonic creation? Or was it simply that was because it looked cool?

_He hasn't faced you yet, he doesn't know what's coming. Best option: Put him out quickly before he can mount a counterattack._

Ermac had stepped into the open several meters away from me, standing with his legs spread wide and his arms hanging by his sides.

He was looking at the ground in front of him and appeared to be muttering a prayer of some sort. I thought I heard several whispers from behind his mask, but I couldn't be sure.

His green eyes met mine, and I stood firm before him. No doubt he too was sizing up his opponent.

I held my hands up in front of me, protecting my face and throat and waiting for the round to begin.

He took a low stance, leaning forward and clenching up his fists. He on his toes, a picture-perfect version of a pose from a style whose name escaped me. That posture would make him difficult to throw or grapple with, but landing hits would be a little more straightforward.

_Quick strikes. Quick blocks._

Shang Tsung looked each of us over with his cold, dead eyes before nodding with satisfaction. He was going to enjoy watching this.

"Fight!" he yelled.

Ermac remained where he was, and so did I.

"We are many," said a chorus of voices from behind his mask, almost perfectly in tempo with each other. "You are but one."

He immediately changed up his stance, adopting a Wushu Kung Fu fighting pose, before stepping forward and putting his dukes up in a Western boxing guard position.

That little show wouldn't have scared me if I had been facing just one opponent. But Ermac's eyes shifted every time he altered his stance, and something told me that the legion of souls inside of his knew a lot more about fighting than I did.

Holy shit. This is going to be fun.

He lunged at me with a quick fly kick. I let it come for a second, waiting until he had hit the apex of his high arc.

I stepped to the side at the last second, feeling the air whiz past as his foot missed my throat. I turned and clipped his thigh, which was still extended parallel to the ground with the rest of his leg, with my forearm. Both of his feet hit the ground, and I had him.

I countered with a Krav Maga technique known as "pulsing": The act of simultaneously blocking and striking the opponent. In this case, the moment my forearm met his leg, I hit back.

I didn't have a good angle on his head, which was tilted way back as he finished the kick, so I rammed my shoulder into his chest and body checked him.

He stumbled, and I launched a closed fist at him, spinning my hips for maximum power. I was rewarded with a satisfying _crunch_ as the his nose broke under my knuckles.

The satisfying impact tremor reverberated throughout my body, leaving my arm shaking.

He quickly jumped backwards, shaking his head and wiping away the blood that was seeping through his mask.

I heard several more whispers and a growl or two from the legion of souls in front of me.

I looked at him and shook my head. "You're not so tough."

He growled and came back after me.

His eyes opened and shut for the briefest of instants, but not in the way that normal people's eyes do so. The green orbs behind his disguise _clicked, _as if they were operating a slide show in his head, or rotated the cylinder on a revolver.

He launched a similar kick, high and fast, at the left side of my face.

I moved my arm to block, and I realized too late that I had been fooled.

He recovered from the feign attack and came from above, jumping high into the air before smashing a hammerfist into the top of my skull with his left arm extended, and bringing in his right arm for a powerful follow-up hit to the _exact same spot _in a windmill-like motion. The impact was enough to get my ears ringing like mission bells.

He then stepped forward, pivoted on his right heel, and launched a straight kick into my ribs.

I fell backward onto my ass, hearing a sharp _crack_ in my chest the moment before I hit the floorboards.

Jerkoff had broken one of my ribs.

I couldn't feel it yet, but I knew there was more to come if I didn't get up.

I threw my hands up in front of my face and started to roll back onto my feet.

But Ermac was already on top of me, stomping on my stomach with a booted foot. The air rushed out of my chest as the heel of his boot came down onto my torso, hard.

He came down again with a stomp, and only grazed my thigh as I wriggled out of the way on my back, gagging for air, still guarding my face.

He knee-dropped onto my chest, and I rolled onto my side in time for it to be a mere grazing blow. He lost his balance and fell on top of me, slamming an open palm into my kidney as he went.

_Jesus Christ!_

My insides churned like butter as the blow registered. For a moment I felt like throwing up, but I couldn't give in. There were no rules here. There was no mercy, and I couldn't stop now.

I saw him get back up through the gap between my arms.

He stood up above me and aimed a side kick at my ribs. And in the same instant I slammed a closed fist into his crotch.

He doubled over and I grabbed his ankles, hooking my fingers around the back of his heels. I slid forward, driving my shoulders into the space just below his kneecaps.

From here he had two options; let himself hit the ground or risk getting one or both of his knees wrecked for life.

Apparently he wasn't badass enough to recover from a permanent injury, so he chose to let me take him down.

But as he fell I stood up, flipping his torso and sending him down like a pile of bricks.

He smacked the flooring with a thunderous _crack._

I heard him exhale as he hit. I folded his legs back towards him, preventing him from wrapping one or both of them around my neck or trying to kick me as I beat on him.

I grabbed his left ankle with one hand and his shin with another, and with a simple turning motion, had the bastard on his stomach.

I let loose; elbow dropping the small of his back and following up with a fist to his side.

I heard a multi-voiced growl from behind his mask.

I looked up just in time to see his eyes flicker again. I finally figured it out; every time he did that, his fighting style was changed.

He swung his legs back around and swept my feet back out from under me.

Suddenly he was an expert in Jujitsu.

I hit the hardwood flooring yet again. Gee, they don't call it _hardwood_ for nothing, do they?

I rolled back onto my feet, but Ermac had beaten there. I came up in a guarding position, hands in front of my face, but he was faster.

I saw the laces of Ermac's boot up close for a millisecond before they connected with my face in a vicious front round kick.

I spun to the side, doubling over as dots began clouding my vision.

He stepped around me, vying for an angle on my bruised ribs.

But that wasn't happening. He threw an underhanded punch, and I swatted it away with my own arm mere centimeters from its target.

I retaliated with a desperate open palm, followed by an elbow jab. The first was blocked, and the second missed entirely. He had weaved to the side, and it was getting more and more difficult to track his movements for some reason.

He slammed a sharp left hook into my jaw, rocking my world and sending me stumbling backwards across the arena. I tasted blood. The warm, metallic flavor that never ceases to shock me.

I did a 360 degree turn and faced him. He was walking towards me, steadily and deliberately, rolling his neck as I backpedaled across the stage.

Had to end this. Fast. End it before he ends you.

He jumped forward and launched a kick at my balls; a low push-kick that looked like it would feel _awesome_ crushing my hopes and dreams.

I jumped back to avoid the blow, throwing my hips backward and folding my arms in an X to stop the blow at the shin. I was already moving when his next punch came.

It deflected painfully off of my right arm as I sidestepped him. He turned on his heel, facing me again before overextending himself.

He turned to the side, putting one fist down by his waist and the other close to his jawline, yet another fighting method for me to figure out and counter.

_How the hell many people was he made of?_

Suddenly, I felt something wet on my back. I didn't turn my back to Ermac, instead pivoting so I could see whatever it was in my peripherals.

The storm that I had seen on the horizon a few minutes ago had indeed arrived, and in force. I was a good two meters from the edge of the roof, and water was splashing up from the ground to as high as my back.

The dark world was lit up by a sudden flash of lighting, and a deep boom that told me the storm was right on top of us.

We soon found ourselves in the corner of the stage nearly behind Shang Tsung's throne, the side that looked out over the sea and a very narrow beach below.

But the location didn't matter, only the fact that we were both still standing… and the fact that it probably didn't hurt him to take in a breath.

He readied himself for a quick attack, getting closer and closer to me.

Suddenly, I had an idea. This isn't a formal tourney, I remember. I can fight as dirty as I want to.

He leaned forward for a straight punch, and I spat blood in his face.

A small spout of red mist in his eyes _really_ threw him off.

The blow sailed over my shoulder, and I nailed him across his jawline.

His head bucked to the side and he nearly fell over from the impact.

I lifted my foot to kick him in the face, but he ducked under my leg, somehow, and tackled me.

Or rather, he snaked an arm under my leg, lifted me up, and tossed me into the railing.

The ornate wooden railing almost gave as I flew into it, splintering several of the smaller wooden crosspieces and knocking the entire thing loose under my weight in the process.

The only thing between me and what looked to be a very long drop was not as sturdy as I had imagined.

I felt a hand grab me by the collar and haul me to my feet.

A hard punch connected with my jaw in the next instant.

I doubled over, and could only watch as one of his feet shot upward and kicked me in the side of the head.

I fell again into the railing, feeling it give even more the second time, nearly vaulting me into the storm and rocky beach below.

I tried to move, but my battered body refused to cooperate. My head was spinning like a top, and I could see a dirty mixture of blood and drool leaking from my mouth.

He picked me up again and wrapped a hand around my throat, holding me upright in the storm. The cool water slapped my back in waves, and I nearly buckled under the pressure of the water.

But Ermac stood firm, holding up with a single arm. He began to pull me back towards him, and I could feel the toes of my shoes sliding along the floor as he held me in an iron grip.

His soulless gaze bore into mine, bright green eyes shining like spotlights in front of my face.

Suddenly, his grip loosened. I lunged.

I curled up my fingers, now bruised and swollen extensions of my hands, and slashed Ermac across the face with my fingernails.

I heard a yelp as I pierced his turban and nearly took out his eyes. The fold of cloth that covered his head started to come undone, and I caught a glimpse of a sliver of flesh below his eyes.

His nose was swollen and bleeding, and his pale white skin had a sickening, half-formed tone to it; as if somehow he was not yet fully developed. He was even whiter than I was, which was saying something.

I swung again with a wild haymaker, but it was in vain.

Ermac stopped it with his left arm and countered with a fast punch to my gut.

I hit my knees on the floor, heaving, and trying to remain conscious.

Funny, no frantic thoughts were rushing through my head. No regrets, and no memories came to the forefront of my mind. Not even in the face of death.

My head throbbed, and probably didn't want to waste the energy it had left by conjuring up old memories and delusions.

Only two things existed in my shattered, semi-conscious world: Pain and desperation. And neither one seemed to be able to alleviate the other; The more it hurt, the more I wanted to keep fighting, and the more desperate I got, the more pain was inflicted on me.

Finally, I felt myself being lifted into the air.

I grabbed at where I _knew_ Ermac's hand would be, the base of my neck with that iron grip.

But there was nothing there. I clawed at it, but touched nothing but the warm rainwater pummeling me.

I was left looking at my open palm, slick with water and drops of blood. No arm was choking me as I was held in the air. Nothing.

Nobody was lifting me.

It was then that I spotted a green aura around my body, fizzing and bubbling beneath me as my feet left the ground.

Ermac stood in front me, holding out a hand like he was using the Force on me. I almost laughed until I saw that he actually _was_.

Green, ghostly wraiths floated around Ermac's head, and his eyes glowed like tinted headlights, blinding me for a moment. His whole body shook, barely able to contain the raw power of the fallen warriors amassed in his human vessel.

Green sparks jumped from his fingertips, extending at the end of his reach into a transparent beam, connecting the circuit between his body and mine. A tingling sensation immediately tickled the small of my back. I could _feel _spirits pushing from beneath me as I ascended into the air.

I didn't believe it. It was impossible.

All of the spirits in his head must have triggered the kinetic power. They hovered about him, leaving trails of lime-colored energy in their wake. The comets quickened their pace around his cranium, orbiting furiously to produce the necessary energy to hold me up.

As if he wasn't already dangerous enough…

I heard a voice from a million miles away shouting at us. He was probably screaming at the top of his lungs; but it was a mere broken whisper over the sounds of the tropical thunderstorm.

"_Finish him!"_

Ermac remained without expression. He stood still for a second before closing up his fist and then _pushing _outwards with a sweep of his arm.

I felt the invisible carpet beneath me lurch backward, over the edge of the building.

He then released his grip on the spirits, opening his palm and stepping back.

The raw spiritual energy holding me up collapsed upon itself, and suddenly I was weightless in the middle of the raging storm.

Freefall.

Falling into oblivion.

**Hey everyone, again thanks for reading my stuff. And a special thanks to all of you who have reviewed and given me feedback on the story so far. **

**Even though I said that there would be very few special moves or supernatural combos, Ermac wouldn't be Ermac without doing his telekinetic lift.**

**Keep reading, for the end is not yet near…**


	16. Propositions

_What would you give to move again? _

_What would you give to fight again?_

A seductive voice whispered into the dark void that had encompassed me. Through the apparent cracks in the dome of blackness around my consciousness, a single, baritone voice penetrated the shell of the black hole I had fallen into.

Somebody was trying to wake me up, but from what? What had just happened? I must have missed something important.

Memories started coming back, slowly, and I began to piece them together.

_Fight with masked man._

_Arrival on mysterious island._

_Meet a god called Raiden._

_Smile at Kitana after fighting her._

_Learn of an otherworldly threat that wants to consume Earth._

_Negotiate with Stryker._

_Follow a blind swordsman into the jungle._

I began to order the events chronologically, thinking back to the previous days. I tried to remember how I had ended up in this place, this, feeling-less and bleak plane of existence in my mind.

A purgatory, a prison maybe? How does one make sense of nothing at all?

No word seemed fit to describe it, until I remembered.

_Coma. I was in a coma, and now someone was trying to wake me up._

How the hell long had I been here? Hours? Days? Weeks? After the savage beat down that I had been thrown by Ermac, anything was possible.

The puzzle pieces were started coming together. The events of the recent past reconnecting in a linear order, tying together the random threads of thought that were floating about my head. It all began to make sense.

The faint whisper reverberated through my head, demanding an answer.

_What would you give?_

My eyes snapped open.

"Argh!" I yelped as my eyes met the light for the first time in… well, I don't really know how long.

A large, gloved hand patted me on the shoulder.

"Easy, boy. Take it slowly; you've been hurt pretty bad."

The voice was impossibly deep and distorted, yet somehow comforting. He at least cared enough to want to wake me up… or something.

I looked up. Who was this?

I must know him…

Kneeling over me was the devil himself; Quan Chi.

He was naked from the waist up; sickly-pale skin marked with symbols and lettering in various shades of red and black. A pair of dark pinstripes came down from the top of his bald head to his eyes, pooling ink around his eye sockets, giving the appearance that he was wearing a mask of some sort.

He was like a tree over me, cutting an imposing figure from my position on the ground.

"Quan Chi," I whispered.

"Maxwell," he nodded.

"How am I still alive?" I asked.

"You actually survived the fall, albeit with more than a few broken bones. I used some of my power to mend your body, to make sure that no permanent damage was done. But you are still bruised, and you will need rest before fighting again."

"I'd say thank you if I didn't know that you expected something in return," I said dryly. My body ached like none other, and the muscles in my legs and arms had tied themselves into knots, and would take a lot of time to untangle.

But I was still alive.

I was propped up against the cliff side behind us, as I had somehow landed on the beach and avoided the water entirely.

He took a seat next to me, resting his back against the rough stone that extended almost a hundred feet above us.

"So what brings you to these parts?" I asked sarcastically. "There are no children around here to frighten and no innocent onlookers to enslave, so I guess you're here to talk."

"Yes," he replied simply, brushing off my remark. "I am here to talk to you about a proposition."

A proposition? What was he talking about?

"Go on," I said cautiously, ears finely tuned in.

"I must say, you are a great fighter. Speed, stamina, technical skill… you are most certainly a worthy contender for the tournament."

"You must have missed what went down last night," I corrected him. "I got my ass kicked, and then tossed off of a cliff."

"Yes, but I also saw something last night that Raiden did not," he continued in his silken voice. "You fought valiantly against that abomination _Ermac. _You showed me something last night."

"Showed you what?"

"That while my companion, Scorpion, burns with the fire of vengeance, he only burns on the outside. That fire didn't help him when his family and clan were eradicated by the Lin Kuei. He was powerless when the Shirai Ryu were massacred, and became a victim of his own impotence.

"That fire, that determination, also burns in you, young one. But it burns in your _heart_.

"You kept fighting even when you _knew_ that you weren't going to win. Now that is the kind of fire that I'm looking for in a fighter. You can teach a man how to fight, make him the best that you can, but you cannot teach him to push forward in the face of death."

"Poetic," I said dryly. He was right; I continued to fight Ermac even when I knew that I was beaten, but what did he care?

"You have shown me that you are worthy of greater skills, and in return I can show you how to defeat Ermac," he said, turning to me and looking me in the eye. His pupils were pitch black, reflecting a sliver of light as they caught the midday sun.

"Whoa," I yelled. "You think that just because I was beaten that I'll happily find a place at your feet like Scorpion did?"

"No," he said firmly. "I do not want someone of your skill at me feet, but by my side, ready to take on the world. You have always wanted a place in this world, have you not? Well-"

"The hell do you know about me?" I demanded, more than a little pissed off.

"I know that you would be better off in my world than you would be in your own," he said simply. "Your own civilization rejects you, the army you once fought for had you victimized, and you have lived on the edge of society for years, waiting for a chance to get back in and reclaim your place.

"But that won't happen, Maxwell. It doesn't take a genius to see that you need a fresh start in the universe-"

"Yeah, but it takes a real moron to think that trusting you is a good idea, Quan Chi," I shot back. He was right in many ways, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of admitting that in front of him.

"The things Raiden has told you…" he stood up and shook his head in disappointment. "You have been fooled, whether you are willing to see it or not."

"Fooled into what? So far everything I've been told about you is pretty spot-on," I said, remembering Sub Zero describe his deceitful nature. It wasn't hard to believe that he had once been a demon.

"You hold Raiden in such high esteem, young man. But tell me, where is he now?" he asked, a smile playing at his lips.

"He's… he's getting the fighters ready for the final rounds of the tournament. Getting ready to kick your ass and sent you and your sorcerer friend packing," I answer, visibly shaken by the realization that Raiden had not found me down here.

Come to think of it, he never bothered to look. All it would have taken is a simple glance and he would have seen me lying here.

Or even worse, he saw me lying broken at the bottom of the cliff and turned the other way.

Scenarios ran through my head at an alarming rate, considering all the possibilities. And none of them looked good.

"And Shang Tsung is not my friend," he said vehemently, for a brief moment allowing his inner hatred of his fellow sorcerer to surface. "He has fallen from his former glory, and now prides himself on being an indentured servant to Shao Kahn. Do not think for a moment that I am _anything_ like him.

"And Raiden does not value you," he laughed. "You are only as valuable to him as the fights you win. And when you fail, you are no longer welcome among his band of fighters. As soon as the God of Thunder saw you tumble off the edge and into the storm, he began prioritizing; trying to find another fighter to take your place."

"Bullshit," I spat back at him.

"Even as you protest me," he continued, "You begin to understand that I am right in this matter. I am sorry, Maxwell. I really am. You were not here by choice, and you were picked by the wrong team."

He extended a gloved hand towards me.

"You and I aren't as different as you would like to think," he sighed, his aura of confidence fading. "We are both outcasts in our own worlds, thrown to the wolves and expected to die. But we have both persevered, and grown stronger in the face of rejection and death.

"Fate has pit us against each other as foes, but we can emerge from this tournament as _brothers_."

He held out the hand, waiting eagerly for me to take it. He seemed humbled, more so than anyone else I had met here.

For a second his eyes flickered with… Greed. He wanted me at his side to defeat Shang Tsung and conquer more worlds. He was right, I was a determined fighter. And I _did_ deserve more…

I looked out at the ocean as I thought, watching the cool waves lapping against the sandy shore for the longest of moments.

Whatever happened next would alter not only my life, but also the course of history as I knew it. Being on the brink of something like this was enough to give me the goose bumps.

Whichever choice I made, I knew that neither one was completely right: On one hand, if I refused, I would go on living the life I had, a rogue who was out of time and friends. On the other, I would go with him and do terrible, spectacular things. But I would be _remembered_.

I slowly turned to him.

"I don't know."

He nodded. "I understand. This is a big decision to make, and I will give you more time to think over the matter. I shall return at sundown, and you will have an answer.

With that he was gone, walking into a void that opened just long enough for him to walk through before collapsing.

_What the hell to do now?_

MKMKMK

The sun shone brightly on the island, baking the bare pavement near the training ground and nearly drowning Kitana in sweat. She was standing near the edge of a large cliff that dominated half of the outer edge of the lone landmass in the Pacific, looking out over the peaceful water.

The lazy waves rolled up onto the sand, lapping at the edges of Shang Tsung's private island, afraid to come any closer to the Sorcerer.

_They have the right idea_, Kitana thought to herself as she regained her breath. She had removed her tight mask in favor of being able to breathe in the humid air, and was in the middle of her daily physical training.

Although she ordinarily trained alongside Jade, she was perfectly fine having an afternoon to herself. Shang Tsung had requested Jade's presence for some reason, leaving the princess of Outworld alone in her thoughts and regular workout.

Again, Kitana enjoyed the peace and quiet. Although one would guess that as the princess of Outworld, she would have much time to sit and reflect on life, her daily schedule was actually quite rigorous.

She was an assassin for her father, Shao Kahn, and was frequently on or training for missions of espionage in the different lands that made up Outworld. While Shao Kahn ruled Outworld with an iron grip, bribing those that he couldn't control by force into submission, there was much turmoil in the fusion of so many cultures in a single realm.

Tarkatan aggression in the Northern lands. Oni from the Netherrealm sneaking in to establish a presence on the shores of the Sea of Blood. Revolts among the smaller local governments, she rattled off the various hotspots between stomach crunches.

The list went on, and Kitana and Jade were tasked with much of the peacekeeping through intimidating/framing/threatening/killing and or convincing the people to stay in line, once siding with Motaro, a bloodthirsty Centaurian, and his rebels and helped them overthrow the previous regime, and in return Motaro's people established a government that was much more sympathetic to Shao Kahn's goals.

Father called upon her mostly for her stealth and skill with improvised weapons at close range, something she was particularly proud of. While Jade was undoubtedly craftier and somewhat faster than her in many aspects, Kitana still held the title of the best hand-to-hand fighter within the ranks of Shao Kahn's agents.

Kitana dropped down to the hot earth and began cranking out pushups as fast as her body would allow, feeling the familiar tugging sensation in her arms as she lifted herself up with each rep. She resumed her thinking.

While she took to these assignments given to her on a regular basis with much enthusiasm, there was a feeling in her gut that screamed at her when she completed each.

A feeling that was so common in her life, that after 10,000 years it was hard to say that it was strange at all; doubt.

Doubt in her father's motives, doubt in the supposed morals of what she was doing. Doubt that the greater good that was preached by Shao Kahn was just a lie for him to justify him doing horrible things to his people.

The feeling of apprehension was inescapable, and had plagued her since she was a child. Every time she took a life in the name of the Emperor, the feeling intensified, making every victory bittersweet, and somewhat self-defeating.

Every success in her father's training and instructions came with these feelings of uneasiness and guilt. She had grown used to it over time, but something told her that _this_ was not the life she had been meant to live.

_This_ was the only life knew of, and it had its perks. But every advantage of being a princess that was an assassin for her father came with guilt, anxiety, and more than a few sleepless nights. Although she had long ago accepted that this was a normal state of mind for someone in her trade, it still felt irrevocably wrong.

But she would give anything to understand _why_ she felt this way.

"Princess."

Kitana's head emptied of thought in an instant, and her survival instincts kicked in.

She rose up from the pushup she had been in the middle of, throwing herself up into the air with the grace and agility of a cat, kicking her legs back under her at the last instant.

Her feet found the pavement, and she pivoted like a top on her left heel, spinning and ripping a war fan out of her boot at the same time.

The weapon opened to reveal five, freshly sharpened blades that were ready to sink into a fleshy target.

Kitana saw the Thunder God, Raiden, approaching her from the woods. He was dressed in a bright white tunic with a blue padding on his chest and shoulders. As per usual he was wearing his signature hat.

"Princess," he began again, stopping about ten meters away from her, across the paved section of the clearing. Still minding his distance from an armed opponent. "I request an audience!"

"You will request nothing!" Kitana yelled back at him. "You are the God that is to protect Earthrealm from the might of Outworld, but you only delay the inevitable. I can see the unflappable confidence you possess fading under that cleaver hat of yours…"

Raiden ignored her, staring past the snarl on her face and into the heart of the warrior.

"Princess, I ask only for you to find the truth in this madness," Raiden said in a humble, courteous voice. "I ask you to reconsider your loyalty to Shao Kahn. I have something you must see-"

"No," she cut him off abruptly. "Your very presence here is a transgression. I will give you one chance to leave before I cut you in half."

Raiden recoiled as if struck, but didn't change his expression.

"I offer no lies to someone of your importance, Princess Kitana. I only wish for you to see the truth-"

"The truth," she interrupted her enemy again. "Is that you are already beaten if you come here thinking that _I_ will fight for you!"

Raiden shook his head grimly.

"If you will not hear the truth, then it must be shown to you," he said in a soft voice.

Kitana saw a flash of lightning, and her surroundings begin to shift.

"You-"she yelled before being transported out of Earthrealm, lifting a fan above her head and letting it fly at the Thunder God.

"-Will not use magic on me!" she finished, finishing the follow-through of her swing in Outworld.

The five-pointed weapon buried itself in a stone wall that had suddenly been erected in front of her.

She whipped around, trying to get a bearing on her new surroundings. It was much darker here, more like night that day.

She shivered as the familiar reek of carcasses overwhelmed her nose. And the sight of fallen warriors left unburied on the field of battle were all around her.

She had been transported into the Flesh Pits.

**Hey everyone, thank you guys for reading and reviewing so far!**

**Note: I thought I'd expand on what exactly Kitana and Jade did for Shao Kahn; acting as spies and manipulators first and killers a close second. I honestly have no idea how Shao Kahn would run all of the stuff in Outworld, but I think he that would need more than a little help with controlling the masses.**

**Anyway, things are going to deviate from the MK9 story pretty significantly from here on out. I hoped you all liked Quan Chi, who I always appreciated as a slippery, opportunistic villain who would try to tip any situation in his favor. **


	17. Redemption

_Fate has pit us against each other as foes, but we can emerge from this tournament as brothers._

The words echoed through my head for the hundredth time since Quan Chi had disappeared through his portal several hours earlier.

His offer had been enticing, especially now; with me lying at the bottom of a cliff, beat to hell by a legion of souls in a human form. Raiden hadn't searched for me, and neither had anyone else. He had been right about a lot of things when he spoke, like me needing a fresh start in the universe and the fact that I was out of friends, and nearly out of time.

But the fact that Quan Chi had _reminded_ me of all these things was too convenient. He dropping psychological bombs on me had inflicted the impact he desired, but leaving me here to think about it until sundown had backfired.

I now recognized his argument as a very structured and solid attack on my belief system, starting with show of good faith by healing my broken bones and head trauma, and culminating by trashing my faith in Raiden and the others, and finally followed up with an offer that seemed too good to be true. The whole argument had been a controlled attack, and was devastating to my fragile mind as I woke from the coma.

It was delivered at exactly the right time and in the right manner to get inside my head. But it had slowly lost its luster as I pondered it.

The longer I thought about it, the more sense it made.

This had been planned from the start, probably ever since Quan Chi saw me fight against Kitana and Kano. He wanted another kombatant to fight for him, and what better way to enthrall a new fighter than to save him and offer him a chance at revenge?

He had done the same to Scorpion when his clan was murdered, and now Scorpion existed only to serve his master and find and kill Sub Zero. I couldn't live that life.

Whatever was waiting for me at the top of that cliff was far better than being the left hand of the devil.

I sighed, breathing out the warm afternoon air. The sea in front of me was quite beautiful in the bright sunlight, the waves that had been deep blue the previous evening were now a light shade of navy, and looked like they were ripped straight out of a postcard.

I could probably sit here all day, thinking about nothing at all. But I couldn't.

I knew what I had to do, whether I liked it or not.

I slowly rose to my feet, feeling a sudden _tug_ in my calves as I came into a standing position in the hot sand. I took several breaths, stretching and loosening up my arms and legs. I still felt like I had just run a marathon and then been worked over with a tire iron, but I could stand, and that meant I could walk.

I paced back and forth for several minutes, taking it easy on my legs. After a few minutes of falling about like a drunkard, my sense of gravity and balance had been restored.

If I could walk, then I could fight.

I bounced on my feet, bobbing and weaving around an imaginary opponent. I started slow, throwing straight punches and kicks at my own shadow, pretending it was Quan Chi. I kept moving, jabbing and throwing attacks at the air in front of me. At first it hurt, and every time my arms extended, it felt like they were going to fall off.

But soon I was going fast again, pummeling an imaginary Quan Chi with fast, straight-on shots to the vulnerable areas of his large frame. It didn't me hurt anymore, and each successful hit and block was an accomplishment. The pain in my arms had numbed significantly, as had the strain in the rest of my body.

I soon traded the shadowboxing for launching punches and high front kicks toward the shoreline, standing on the edge of the beach, and watching the water collapse on itself and retreat with every wave that came in.

The sun shone brightly down on me, and I soon abandoned my shirt in the heat, boxing bare-chested in the daylight. It was nice, actually, and focusing on technical skill helped me ignore the pain and stiffness that clung to my body.

I couldn't believe it, I could actually _move_. And I could actually fight again. I didn't need Quan Chi to help me defeat Ermac. I didn't need Raiden to save me from being stuck down here. I could accomplish it all by myself.

"Thank you, Quan Chi," I whispered aloud in between punches. "I now know what I have to do."

I eventually stopped, and took several deep breaths to slow my thunderous heart rate. It would have to be done, whether I was up for it or not.

If I could fight, then I could climb.

I donned my shirt looked up at the cliff that loomed above me. The grey stone wall was bleak and covered with outcroppings and imperfections, rendered from years of being pummeled with wind and rain. Several cracks and handholds looked serviceable, if incredibly hard to get to.

The mono-colored stony surface was a straight 90 degree climb, with no visible ledges or convenient trees or vines to grab onto and use for support.

I took a deep breath, shaking my head and staring at the ground in front of the rock face.

"This is a bad idea," I laughed to myself, in that moment stepping forward and grabbing a questionable handhold at eye level.

I tugged, and the turtle-shaped imperfection in the side of the cliff held my weight.

I reached up and put my other hand into a small crack in the stone, squeezing my fingers into the cramped space.

"Yeah," I muttered. "That'll work."

I hauled myself up a little higher, pressing the soles of my shoes on an uneven patch of rock and grabbing another handhold that was just barely within reach.

I went to move my other hand, but it was firmly secured in the crack.

Shit, I was stuck. I almost panicked, seeing my fingers and wrist pinned in an impossibly tight space.

I relaxed, working my hand from side to side in an attempt to free it from the crevice. Slowly, I started feeling the grip of the stone on my hand loosen. _There we go. I can do this._

I tugged with all my might and it came free, albeit with a crooked gash along the top of my thumb.

"Okay," I grunted, latching the hand onto a different rock a little higher up. "Not doing that again."

I remembered to keep three of my four limbs anchored at all times, using the other to reach up and following when I had a good grip.

I could already feel the strain in my arms as I pulled myself up just a little higher. Persevere through this, through the blood and sweat and tears, and I could do anything.

"C'mon, man," I whispered as I fought the pain. "Prove them wrong. Prove that you're worth a damn."

I slowly began ascending up the cliff, carefully free climbing my way to salvation.

MKMKMK

Never before had suffering and wanton horror been displayed in such a way to Kitana. Not in 10,000 years had she seen anything so terrifying.

Bodies were lying dead and discarded all over the rocky ground of the Flesh Pits, the area of the Wastelands whose very name struck fear into the hearts of most Outworld denizens. Kitana had heard awful rumors of this place, but she had dismissed them as here-say and campfire horror stories.

_Not anymore_, she whispered to herself, looking around at the bodies of Tarkatans with the blades torn out of their arms, dead flesh ballooning outward from the sudden removal of their main weapon, and executed in a brutal fashion. Corpses of Shokan were strewn about, some with one limb too few or several too many, all turned unhealthy shades of color due to their mutations that somehow remained dominant over their skin pigment, even in death.

Not just them. But her Edenians as well, who resembled humans too closely for Kitana to tell whether or not any actual Earthrealmers had been experimented on and thrown in with them.

Kitana had known many different individuals from many races, and seeing their kind killed and then forgotten in such a careless, heartless fashion was sickening. They were murdered and thrown around the area inside the fenced in graveyard; a very effective means of discouraging intruders from trying to enter and catch a glimpse of what Shang Tsung was up to in his personal chambers.

The feeling that registered in Kitana at the sight of it was more one of confusion and disbelief than pity.

_Why had he done this? Was he really lacking in humanity so much that seeing this every day didn't disgust him?_

The odor of the decaying bodies around Kitana burned in her nostrils, and something told her she would never forget the staunch, rotten smell of this place.

She bowed her head and said a silent prayer for the faithful departed. Whoever they had been, enemies of Shao Kahn or not, they had not deserved this.

If Kitana had not been transported inside the gate, past the guards, and right in the middle of the horrible scene, she would have tried to leave.

_Raiden planned this_, she thought to herself. Raiden's abilities was affected when he entered Outworld in some way, making his overall power output fluctuate when outside of Earthrealm. So transporting her to such a precise location must have required some forethought and preparation on his part. _But why?_

_If you will not hear the truth, then it must be shown to you,_ he had told her. There was something here that he wanted her to see, and he knew that by dropping her inside a restricted area that she would have no choice but to continue forward, deeper into the forbidden sector of Outworld.

She looked back up at her surroundings, trying to decide her next move.

She knew that the only way to go was forward. Forward into the bowels of Shang Tsung's stronghold. There were no guards this far in; the Sorcerer was far too paranoid to entertain the possibility of a spy in his front yard.

The entrance to the actual Flesh Pits was directly in front of her; a single, ominous stairwell that wound down into the ground. For a moment Kitana simply stood there, fists clenched and arms at her sides, staring down like she had reached the Gates of Hell.

_If I had, it wouldn't have looked too different,_ she shivered. This was a stupid idea, and it would probably get her killed.

But there was no going back, not after seeing all of this desecration and madness. She had to know why. There must be a reason for this.

She put one foot in front of the other, taking cautious steps toward the entrance as she looked down into the torch lit staircase.

_By the Gods, I have lived too long to make decisions like these, _she cursed at herself as she began her descent into the lair of Shang Tsung.

MKMKMK

The stair down into the dungeon seemed to last forever, and Kitana started to wonder if this whole place was some sort of magical trap; a never-ending staircase that could catch anyone with prying eyes in the narrow space for eternity.

The winding staircase was built around a solid vein of granite, she guessed. And it was impossible to see all that way down or back up because the entire things was walled in, and it appeared that she was going in a circle.

The torches on the walls remained cradled in slots at seemingly-perfect intervals, and all of the bricks on either side of Kitana looked to be the same ones she had passed a minute ago, and those identical to the ones she had passed before that.

She shivered at the thought of being trapped in the bowels of the Flesh Pits by herself.

But she pushed onward, throwing caution to the wind and continuing to descend into the depths of Outworld. By putting one foot in front of the other, and telling herself that going back up was not an option, she was able to continue.

Finally, Kitana saw a green light around the next bend; a sickly lime hue that splashed the bare walls in front of her with color.

Kitana pressed herself against the brick, inching her way along until she could almost see where the light was coming from.

The stairs have definitely stopped, she observed, seeing flat ground for the first time in what seemed like years.

From her position against the corner, she saw a green cylinder of some sort, empty, and stretching from the floor to the ceiling. The structure cast eerie shadows on the stone floor, which was neatly paved and appeared to be free of blood, at least from where Kitana was standing.

It took a moment for her to realize that the green pillar was actually a giant test tube, and was filled to the brim with green liquid, the nature of which remained a mystery. Whatever was meant to be kept inside of it had clearly been removed, and the device was large enough to hold almost any major race of creature in Outworld.

She dared to poke her head a little further around the corner, scanning the room for signs of life.

What she saw was even more unsettling than the massacre outside.

Two more tanks were located next to the first one she had spotted, and appeared to have a humanoid creature feely floating inside of them. Their features were blurred by the green fluid, which was even murkier in these than the first tank.

But Kitana could tell that they were either human or Edenian, and were naked. Something told her that the creatures were born in those tanks, and created to be loyal to Shang Tsung.

_Is this how he created Ermac? _Kitana wondered. _What was he up to now?_

She stepped over the threshold into the vast chamber. The belly of the beast.

She took cautious steps, looking all around for the Sorcerer. If it came down to a fight between the two of them, she was pretty sure he would be the one to win.

And Kitana didn't like the idea of her soul being consumed by the creep.

She slowly took in all of the contents of the room.

Apart from the three containers arranged in a neat row along the far wall, there was an elaborate workstation to her right, occupying several stone benches and overflowing with scrolls, beakers, and other instruments. She would have a closer look at them in a minute.

In the center of the room there were several stone tables, covered in crude rugs the color of blood, scattered in an arbitrary fashion. At least, they looked to be dyed red, but maybe they were simply reused after each experiment…

On one was a body bag, in which was what appeared to be a Tarkatan soldier, probably a deserter from Baraka's army. Traitors and deserters were rumored to be tortured to death by Shao Kahn, and Kitana had heard stories in the field of disloyal troops being dragged into the Flesh Pits; never to be seen again.

On another table was a form wrapped in bandages, and _she_ appeared to be mummified and left to lie there. Kitana heard the figure's faint, barely audible breathing beneath the wrappings, and was tempted to help her. She might have some answers.

Her breasts were clearly defined and her body was lean; much resembling the build of Kitana herself. As much as Kitana wanted to help, something told her that touching any of Shang Tsung's work would prove to be lethal.

_Curious_, she thought. _What was he doing down here?_

She peeled herself away from the operating table, stepping gingerly over a steel drain in the middle of the floor, and walking to the impromptu workstation.

What appeared to be four knee-high tables pushed together were not enough to contain the expansive collection of equipment, artifacts, and sinister-looking tools Shang Tsung possessed.

Suddenly, something caught her eye as she gazed to the left.

A picture, nailed to the wall stone wall just above a still-burning torch.

Kitana gasped. It was a picture of her!

Hand-drawn on thick parchment, the near-perfect photograph was of her, completely naked, with various text and notations made around the diagram.

Observations of muscle tone, height, weight, and even clothing sizes were shamelessly entered into an extensive data chart on a scroll, which was spread out across the center of the desk. From the amount of data and correct observations and predictions, Shang Tsung must have been at this for _years_.

From what was visible, Kitana could see numbers stretching back nearly 3 decades, and that was only a fraction of the semi-rolled up scroll.

She dared not touch it, for Shang Tsung could probably tell that it had been tampered with if only a single thing was out of place. The urge to tear apart the desk was overwhelming, but she held her patience.

_What in the name of the Gods was he trying to accomplish here?_

She whipped her head to the side, seeing papers and sketches outlining medical procedures on Tarkatan and Edenian individuals performed in the past. Several sections were outlined, circled, or otherwise noted by Shang Tsung with bright red ink.

The marked areas all told of the results and implications of various implants, surgical grafting, and results of magical ceremonies to cross traits of the two separate species.

She shivered. _Was he planning to do something to me?_

Then she glanced down and saw the recorded results of his experiments, barely visible under a stone with a mysterious hue.

She began reading, slowly.

The first entry was dated back thirty seven years:

_Received first candidates for Project: Eve. One Edenian, female, approximately 7,000 years old. The other, Tarkatan male, age: 48. Both in ideal physical condition. After testing under the parameters recommended to me by Shao Kahn, I have discovered that Tarkatan tissue and Edenian tissue are surprisingly diverse and would be the most ideal for recreating Shao Kahn's daughter. To simply hire or kidnap a native of Edenian ancestry would result in a questionable amount of loyalty to the Emperor, as per his request that one be; "Created in Kitana's image." No doubt Shao Kahn has underestimated the difficulty of this project, as it will take some time to get a viable candidate for the new experiments; as the testing has killed both of the aforementioned subjects. _

_Notes: The daughter would be most appealing (both physically and sexually) as an Edenian infused with Tarkatan tissue, not the other way around. Also, a certain amount of precaution must be taken with future experiments, as the Tarkatan almost freed himself-_

The entry was cut off by the presence of the stone on his desk.

Kitana's mind swirled around in her head, not believing what she had read.

She glanced down and saw another entry exposed. This one was dated six years ago:

_After much effort and a lot of dead specimens, I have managed to recreate the body of an Edenian in the container (all 24 previous creations were either too physically-impaired from the procedure to be of service or came out dead). This one was rapidly created by using the growth hormones of Tarkatan (see: growth and developmental research) and was given the physique and body of an Edenian._

_She is unable to speak and still appears as a child in the elixir that will nurture her for the time being, but is already rapidly aging and is reaching my intended goal of young adulthood (for an Edenian, she would appear to be 7000-8000 years old, just a fraction of a lifespan younger than Kitana herself) and hopefully the elixir will slow the aging and maturing process as intended when it reaches the desired mark._

_I shall wait to report my breakthrough to Shao Kahn until she has matured, and after I have had a chance to rest. The ceremony was physically and mentally exhausting, and even though this process might have been faster with the aid of Quan Chi, I intend to keep that worm out of this. He need not know what happens in my chambers, despite his frequent urging._

_Must take a vacation, rest up and recharge before I am ready to serve once again._

The entry was left blank for several lines before continuing. This was dated only a year ago:

_Project: Eve is a success. I have announced the results to Shao Kahn and he is pleased with my work. I almost forgot what it was like to be appreciated for a change… He has already named his daughter Mileena, and despite her Tarkatan features and aggression, or perhaps because of them, he accepts her as his child. I then asked him about his current daughter: Kitana._

_He informed me that she was a skilled and agile fighter, and was still loyal to his cause, but he was beginning to doubt her resolve. She has dedicated much of her time outside combat training to studying the culture and history of Earthrealm, and appears far too interested in their ways to hold an unbiased opinion of their existence. He speculated that humans and Earthrealm bore too much of a physical and sociological resemblance to Edenia, her native realm, for her to kill without mercy. Although her instincts and reflexes remain as sharp as ever, Shao Kahn doubts that Kitana will take to the destruction of Earthrealm with much enthusiasm. He plans to dispose of her soon. _

_After muscle tone improvements and extensive sorcery and other forms of physical enhancement, Mileena will be combat-ready within a year. Her surgeries and augmented fighting styles (fused into her muscle memory to feel natural and to be as accessible and effective as someone who had been trained for years as a fighter) will take time to get used to, but I feel-_

Kitana fell backwards, unable to read anymore. Father had done all this without her knowing?

Her legs fell out from under her and she hit the floor, hard. She collapsed onto her bare knees on the ground from the shock of her discovery, but she was too numb to feel the impact.

"No," she whispered. "He… wouldn't. He couldn't do this to his own daughter!"

She beat the ground in frustration with her fists. She couldn't believe it, but it was undeniably true.

Tears began streaming down her face. Hands trembling, she ripped off her mask and let the lot streaks run down to her chin, dripping onto the cold, bare floor.

She suddenly felt lightheaded, and pressed a hand against the ground to steady herself.

Nobody should see me like this, she thought. She imagined the rest of them in shock when the news broke. She imagined Jade, who was right now with the murderous bastard Shang Tsung, wanting to tear him limb from limb when she too found out the truth.

A thousand thoughts swelled and fought for space in the forefront of her mind. Past memories, prying questions that had been so quickly dismissed and then forgotten, and the fact that she should have seen a betrayal of this magnitude coming from across the Wastelands. But she hadn't.

The most prominent thought was the inescapable fact that she could never be in the service of her father again, never look him in the eye and lie to him about what she had seen in this Hell.

_Never again._

"You know, the most important thing…"

Kitana's head snapped up at the sound of a woman's voice, and her tears were choked out by the sudden interruption. Her instincts kicked in, and suddenly the discovery of Mileena was in the back of her mind.

"About maintaining control over a team of skilled assassins… is the ability to lie."

Kitana pulled her mask up over her face, tugging the strings tight around the back of her neck to secure the fabric. She shifted her legs to feel the bump of a pair of fans in her boots. Kitana stayed put, letting the new target come to her. Whoever it was would incur her wrath, and would be held to account for what had been done here.

Whether they were responsible for all of the experiments or not.

"Shao Kahn would never be arrogant enough to think that such skilled warriors will stay under his thumb forever. So what does the Emperor do? He _lies_ to us."

The voice was sultry and smooth, spoken from one who was not only intelligent, but one who was willing to risk a fair fight with Kitana to get their point across. A very dangerous opponent.

Kitana glanced out of the corner of her eye, and saw the slim yet well-built figure of a woman approaching from the shadows. She was taking slow, deliberate steps, and cradled a sword of some type in her left hand.

"Because once you have someone under control, once you have deceived them… you must keep it that way. Keep them in the dark."

She crossed the threshold into the lit portion of the room. Kitana nearly recoiled at the sight of the sickly-pale woman in the provocative outfit.

She wore bright red over the explicit regions of her body, and little else. Save for a small knot holding her inferno of red hair in a ponytail behind her head, and an assortment of throwing knives strapped to her bare thigh with a tight strip of leather, she was almost completely naked.

The crimson loincloth she wore swayed as she took slow, cocky steps toward the Princess, who was still on her knees from the discovery.

"Keep them unknowing. Because once they figure out they have been fooled, revenge will make them nearly indestructible."

She finished her speech, boots clapping the floor as she approached Kitana, who was now only an arm's reach away.

"But only nearly," she said in a voice between a condescending remark and a laugh, lowering her sword to execute Kitana.

Kitana felt the cold touch of a blade against the base of her neck.

She felt one of her hands fall to the side, a deceiving motion of defeat, coming to rest the top of her boot. The attacker took no notice.

Her fingers wrapped around the soft handle of a folded-up war fan, and she found the weight of the weapon reassuring.

Kitana felt the touch of the blade disappear as the wielder lifted it for the killing blow. Now was the time to act.

Rage burned from behind Kitana's eyes. This new attacker would not take her so easily.

The blade of the weapon would be fast, but Kitana would be faster.

**Hey everybody, here's the latest in my growing story. Review and give me your thoughts on the story so far.**

**Note: Kitana discovers Mileena when she is not yet awake has a few more bandages on, if you know what I mean… And she gets to see just how much effort it took to replace her. I hope everybody knows who the certain someone is that finds Kitana in the Flesh Pits…**

**Ugh, this is a long-ass week. And it's only Tuesday.**

**And a special thanks to those of you who have given me feedback so far, and a very special thanks to whoever put my story in the group entitled: "MK stories that are ACTUALLY readable." Hatchet made me laugh.**

**Peace.**


	18. Bloodbath

Skarlet never saw the blow until it was too late.

Kitana moved the moment she felt the air around her ears _whooshing_ with the upward motion of the sword.

It was just as she thought: the woman had lifted her Katana up high above her head of fiery red hair to execute the Princess of Outworld in an extremely unnecessary and dramatic fashion. The woman wanted to lop of Kitana's head in a single blow and show it to her master, something Kitana could never allow to happen.

The cold touch of the blade was gone, and Kitana intended for the weapon never to touch her again.

She was on her knees in a state of submission, but the numbness and emptiness of her discovery was gone. Her nullified strength had returned. She would make someone pay the price for what had happened here.

And this woman seemed like an ideal candidate.

Instead of backing away, she jumped forward into the assassin, ramming the crown of her head into the killer's chest, and drawing a war fan in a single motion.

Kitana held a loose grip on the folded up weapon, letting the fan be thrown open like a sail by her forward momentum. The drag of the ornate weapon nearly slowed her down, but her close proximity to the Woman in Red made the physics useless.

She crashed into Skarlet, swinging her arm wildly in an upward-cutting motion at the woman's still-outstretched arm. Kitana didn't see the blow, but she felt the smooth motion of her swing shake and hesitate as the blades tore through muscle and bone.

Kitana felt a warm spray of blood hit her in the face as she nearly severed the intruder's arm.

Kitana heard the woman hiss into her ear as Kitana landed on top of her. The weight of both of them on Skarlet's small frame winded her from the impact, adding insult to injury.

Kitana jumped back to her feet, hovering over the injured woman. She turned her war fan over in her hand, seeing that a large amount of the fan's wide frame was stained with bright red. It had felt good, but was the woman really dead?

She looked down and gasped.

The killer's sword was now gone, and a deep gash was carved in her left arm. Dark red tears began to seep from the open wound and crawl down her arm, staining her ivory skin as they went.

But the woman was smiling at Kitana. The way the ends of her cheeks lifted up the fabric of her mask around the edges of her face suggested no other expression. She was smiling, and she curled her body up, tucking her legs under her torso in a surprising show of flexibility and athleticism, and began to rise to her feet.

"A LITTLE BLOOD!" she cried, giggling through the pain as she stood slightly hunched over in front of Kitana.

"I WAS BORN OF THIS!" she laughed hysterically, reaching down to her thigh for a throwing knife.

"Now allow me to return the favor," she whispered in a seductively-calm voice, winking at Kitana with a wild, animalistic eye.

But Kitana was ready for her.

She drew an arm above her head and let the war fan she has been using loose in Skarlet's direction, bending over on the follow through to draw another from her boot.

Skarlet jumped to the left and avoided the attack, spinning on her heel and sending a throwing knife flying at Kitana in the same moment.

The blade clipped Kitana in the shoulder and tore a nasty-looking gash in the space just below her neckline as it tumbled past her. Flames burned beneath the wound, and Kitana couldn't believe how much damage had been done by a mere grazing blow.

The Woman in Red advanced upon her quickly, covering the distance between them in a few short lunges.

Skarlet rushed her, holding one hand in front of her neck and jaw to protect herself, and kept the other angled down by her side; Kitana saw the glint of a sword in the split second before she attacked.

The killer quickly faked with a left-handed jab to throw Kitana off before swinging with her entire body to the right, bringing around the sword which she held in a reverse grip for an angular cutting strike on the Princess.

But Kitana didn't fall for the fake punch, having caught a glimpse of the blade from its place behind her arm. She threw up a fan, stopping the strike with the five-pointed weapon. For a moment she strained against the other woman's strength, shocked at how much power she packed in a single swing.

She then threw her arm to the side, knocking back Skarlet's sword.

Skarlet was nearly out of range, and threw a front round kick at Kitana's jaw, leaning her entire body backward and cranking her hips through the blow.

The Edenian pulled her head back, avoiding the kick by mere inches.

But Skarlet had planned that, spinning off of the momentum before turning around and launching a back kick that connected with Kitana's cheek.

Kitana staggered from the blow, but was still not disoriented enough to see another sword attack coming her way.

Skarlet swung twice, a high-low combo of back and forth cutting strikes.

The Princess sucked in air and pushed herself as far backward as possible.

The weapon cut at the air in front of her; _whooshing_ past and reflecting the dim light of the green tanks behind the two fighters for a brief moment before coming back around.

Kitana felt a jolt in the small of her back as she stumbled into an operating table. Skarlet had nearly backed her into a corner, and was still coming.

Skarlet leapt into the air, spinning the blade end over end in her fingers until she once again clutched it in a traditional saber grip, and swung the sword down like it was a hammer.

Kitana clutched the war fan with both of her hands as she held it at arm's length to protect herself.

The impact of the two weapons colliding shook Kitana's entire body. The distinct sound of metal on metal screeched through the air, and Kitana watched in slow motion as sparks leapt in all directions from the joining of the blades.

Skarlet was much less fazed.

She turned herself completely around, lifting the sword up and bringing it back with the momentum of her entire body; almost clipping the pavement as she swung as Kitana's legs.

Kitana jumped over the swing, landed on her toes like a dancer, and lashed out with a closed-up war fan, stabbing at the soft area below Skarlet's mask.

But Skarlet too quick.

She ducked to the left to avoid the strike, at the same time swinging her sword in another upward arc, slicing Kitana's outstretched forearm before the Princess could recover from her attack.

Kitana came close to dropping the fan as the cold blade nearly slashed the veins in her wrist and forearm. The wound wasn't fatal, but the fact that it was so close to being so startled her. In that split second, Kitana saw a hint of life in Skarlet's eyes.

The killer's eyes had been grey and impersonal, yet lit up with excitement when she saw that her opponent had experienced fear. Skarlet enjoyed the kombat too much for her own good.

Kitana blocked a sideways cutting strike, this time coming from her left. She twisted her entire core around to stop the blade with her war fan, her muscular, lean arms almost buckling under the force of the blow.

Kitana jumped backwards and tucked her legs as close to her stomach as she could manage, her booted heels successfully landing atop the empty operating table behind her. She bent her knees to absorb the force of the landing and waited for Skarlet to catch up, holding her war fan in a protective manner that left her neck and face somewhat guarded.

Unfettered by Kitana's maneuver, she swung once again from her position on the ground, trying to slice her opponent's ankles.

Hopping over the blow, Kitana backed up to the other end of the long table, gesturing for Skarlet to _bring it _with her free hand. Both women remained expressionless as Skarlet leapt up to the higher plane.

Both took careful steps as they prepared for the next series of hits and blocks. The soft tapping rhythm of feet on the bare surface reminded Kitana of the skill and agility of her opponent.

Kitana glanced to her left, spotting another identical table only a short jump away. If worse came to worse, she would either jump there or get back down.

Their eyes bore into each other, Skarlet's cold, lifeless gaze met Kitana's hard, determined brown eyes.

Skarlet made the first move.

The blood warrior jumped in a graceful arc at Kitana, twisted, and came back around with her left foot extended.

Kitana ducked the blow, feeling the rush of air whip her black hair around as the kick sailed past her. She countered with an open fan, slashing her opponent across her exposed stomach.

Skarlet gasped at the sight of her own blood trickling down her stomach and blending in with her bright lion cloth below.

_Ting!_

Sharpened blades met as Kitana went for a killing blow, and was blocked by Skarlet, who had improbably-fast reflexes.

The Blood Warrior didn't pull back this time, instead driving her blade down the center of Kitana's fan, tearing the fabric holding the blades together into ribbons.

Skarlet giggled in excitement, pulling back her sword and spinning it end over end in front of her, delighted that she had broken her opponent's weapon, despite the fact that she was now bleeding out of two gaping wounds.

Her demonic laugh was abruptly cut off when Kitana's heel slammed into her Solar Plexus. Skarlet hadn't seen the straight-kick coming, and her seriousness returned.

Hunched over, eyes watering, she looked up at Kitana, who was gazing at her broken fan with a mixture of disappointment and fear.

_All she needed was one more blow_, the thought was practically telegraphed on Skarlet's half-covered face. She pointed the sword at Kitana again, like a cocky baseball player calling his shot, and lunged forward.

She intended to pull back the telegraphed stab and come in with a short swing at Kitana's abdomen the second Kitana tried to block or sidestep the blow, but she never got the chance.

Kitana instead lunged back at her opponent, inspired by a sudden memory of a sparring match with Jade; who had also broken one of her weapons when they were much younger, and caught the assassin's sword mid-stab.

She enveloped the shot blade in the tangled fabric of her war fan, knocking it away from her body and pulling both ends of the fan together, wrapping up Skarlet's hand and forearm like a birthday present.

A look of panic registered on Skarlet's face when the ends of the fan were pulled tight around her thin arm, rendering it and her sword useless.

Kitana lifted up Skarlet's arm and pulled it down over her shoulder, simultaneously lifting her up and using Skarlet's forward momentum to throw her off the table.

Skarlet skipped like a stone as she hit the edge of the table and crashed to the ground, the tangled fan still around her arm.

Kitana jumped down after her, and Skarlet kicked up onto her feet, casting aside the war fan and preparing for hand to hand combat.

The Blood Warrior jumped into the air and threw a wild straight kick at Kitana's head; which was sidestepped by the princess a second later.

Kitana grabbed Skarlet's ankle, stepped forward so that her knee was flush with the other woman's leg, and threw her onto the ground.

Skarlet crashed onto a grated portion of the floor in a heap, hissing and fuming from the failed attack.

She climbed onto her feet and faced Kitana again, this time with a bruised forehead and an equally hurt ego.

Kitana took a conservative fighting stance; having figured out the fatal flaw in Skarlet's fighting method. While the Blood-obsessed woman was extremely fast and overwhelmingly aggressive in her attacks, her moves were too telegraphed, and not nearly as direct as they should be.

"You bitch!" Skarlet hissed. "You will pay for that!"

"Stop now!" Kitana commanded. "You need not throw your life away as I almost did. Yield and you will be set free."

"Free?" she laughed again, this time forcibly and with bitter sarcasm. "My freedom was forfeit long before I was ever born, and so was yours. I, however, know where my loyalties lie."

"For Shao Kahn!" she cried, coming at Kitana yet again.

Her opening attack was feral, but controlled; a pair of rapid fire straight punches that Kitana barely managed to block with her forearms.

Skarlet lifted up her leg and snapped it forward for a straight-on push kick, and was stopping mid-motion by Kitana's shin connecting with the inside of her outstretched thigh.

Skarlet's leg went completely numb from the blow, and she drew her leg back in defeat.

Kitana countered by driving a closed fist into the woman's ribs, followed up by another upward swing to her stomach.

The loyalist warrior stumbled backward, doubling over from the force of the blows. But Skarlet wasn't finished so easily.

She came forward with a right hook, but was knocked backward by a high kick that smashed into her nose, crumpling the cartilage under her crimson mask with a wet pop.

Kitana slowly lowered her foot, ready for another assault.

Skarlet reached behind her, drawing her last blade in an act of desperation.

She screamed and came at Kitana, holding the sword with both hands at eye level. The woman's eyes, which were dead until a few moments ago, now came alive as she pushed herself to keep fighting through the pain.

Kitana stepped to the side, feeling the blade nick her shoulder as Skarlet lunged faster than expected, and managed to grab the warrior's arm at the base of her wrist with one hand and her elbow with the other.

She pulled the woman's arm sharply behind her head, lifting and cranking it backward until Skarlet's elbow was touching her pale ear. And then she pulled some more.

Kitana heard a sharp crack in the woman's shoulder and the sword fell from her grasp.

The Princess dropped one of her arms and caught the blade, wrapping her fingers around the handle.

Kitana then drove the sword into her opponents back, straight through her spinal column and out through the center of her chest.

Skarlet looked down at the stained blade in disbelief as she realized that she had been fatally wounded. She let out a gasp, and then was silent.

Kitana carefully cupped a hand around the back of the woman's head, loosely holding the back of her scalp through her tufts of bright red hair, and tossed her aside.

Skarlet sailed past her, flying into and shattering one of the liquid-filled tanks.

Skarlet all but disappeared in the flood of green incubation fluid as the tank was emptied, taking shards of glass and debris with it as it flooded the chamber. Kitana took several long strides and jumped atop the table she had just fought on, avoiding the flood of foul-smelling liquid by less than a second.

She quickly turned and threw a third fan into the next closest tank, shattering the plate glass and tearing the fan to shreds in the same instant. A second flood spilled forth, this one piling a surprising amount of water onto the floor; too much for the grates to drain in time to save Shang Tsung's work.

Kitana watched with some satisfaction as all records and data of his work here were drowned, and the ink long written-down was blurred beyond recognition on the parchment. Had he taken more time to set up his things on higher ground, it might not have worked. But his mistake would be realized much too late.

The first wave quickly withdrew, and the drains began to suck the fluid into the depths of a collective storm drain, or what Kitana assumed to be one judging by the amount of grated flooring on the stone ground. Too late for Shang Tsung's work, and not a moment too soon for Kitana.

She took off across the damp floor, splashing through some areas on her way to the exit. She had to be out of here and back to the tournament before Shang Tsung or any of his minions returned and saw what she had done to his Flesh Pits.

Kitana remembered what Skarlet had told her before she had been killed:

"_I, however, know where my loyalties lie! For Shao Kahn!"_

"No," Kitana whispered out loud as she jumped up the first stair and began her climb back up to the surface.

"Not for Shao Kahn. Never again for him. But for Edenia, and what it can be once again."

**Hey everyone, thank you for reading. Please review and gimme some feedback on what you think.**

**Note: I literally had an adrenaline rush while writing this (or perhaps it was just the mixture of Nos and Mountain Dew taking effect, I can't be sure).**


	19. Return

Raiden sat cross-legged in the darkest, most isolated room he could find in the barracks. His glowing eyes cast eerie shadows across the walls as they intensified and grew in brightness and intensity. His mouth was hanging open slightly, as if he had hesitated mid-sentence or was frozen in time.

But he was in fact quite focused on a matter he had deemed worthy of much concentration and physical effort. He needed to know if his sudden ambush of Kitana had gone according to plan. He wanted to know if it had worked, or if all his effort had been for nothing.

The visions he now watched were from Wards, mostly small stones that had been enchanted to act as a sort of camera or an object capable of capturing moving images and relaying them back through to Earthrealm.

The rocks and other non-descript items had been quite altered to fit Raiden's purposes. _And the preparation had taken so, so long_, Raiden lamented as he shifted his focus to get a better view of the action in the Flesh Pits.

There had been the sheer amount of time and careful planning required to safely making the devices to spy on the Sorcerer with of course, but after that he had to bribe Shang Tsung's most trusted guards. The long, slow process had nearly driven Raiden to rallying his allies and mounting a full on assault on Shang Tsung's headquarters.

But Raiden had restrained, taking years to get everything in place so that he could monitor what the bastard was up to. Shang Tsung's magical ability was matched only by his meticulousness and justified paranoia, which Raiden knew granted him many sleepless nights, but also had made him a very worthy opponent.

When Raiden began to feel that Kitana could be turned to good, almost everything was already in place to show her that she had been betrayed. He had simply found her earlier in the day and transported her just inside the gates, and into the middle of a gauntlet she could not back out of. This had ensured that she discover the truth about her sister, the abomination called Mileena.

Raiden's eyes flickered as images assaulted his mind. Kitana was fighting an assassin, and now had the upper hand. He watched with some satisfaction as Kitana ran the woman through with her own sword before flooding the chamber.

She was on her way back up the stairs, frantically making the climb back to the surface. She was no doubt distraught from the discovery, and was looking to spend no more time among the corpses.

Raiden stood up quickly and threw open the door, almost colliding with an impatient-looking Liu Kang and a very concerned Johnny Cage.

"Has she taken the bait?" Liu asked eagerly. The young man looked somewhat tired, and despite his healthy lifestyle and strong connection with spiritual world, the fatigue of Mortal Kombat was visible on his young face.

Johnny Cage stood with his arms folded, his expression hidden beneath his blacked-out sunglasses.

"Yes, I believe so. I have arranged for her to travel through the same portal she entered through, but there is a catch," Raiden said in a cautious voice.

"What's the catch?" Johnny asked with sudden interest.

"She will emerge somewhere within the borders of the island, but the exact coordinates will be unknown until she lands," Raiden said with a hint of disappointment.

Stryker approached from a hallway to Raiden's left, the equipment on his belt rattling slightly with each slow step. The wounds he had received from the fight with Baraka had almost healed, but Raiden couldn't help but notice that his movements were now much more deliberate, and Stryker was doing his best not to make it noticeable.

"Is this new member someone we have to worry about?" the cop asked with a hard, cautious voice. "I am ready to detain-"

"That won't be necessary," Raiden said abruptly, cutting him off mid-sentence. "This is not an alliance that will be brokered by force, but an agreement to work against a common enemy and defeat Shang Tsung. We must make a good first impression."

Kenshi appeared behind Raiden, stepping to the side so that he fell in line with the half-circle that was forming around the Thunder God.

"What about her friend? The bodyguard? Would she too ally herself with us?" he asked, remembering how formidable Jade had been in their encounter.

"It is possible, but the only way we will know is when she arrives," Raiden answered. "Until then speculation is just… speculation. It will not help anything."

Johnny shrugged. "So what? We just wait around here… looking pretty until something happens?" he asked in a slightly mocking voice.

Liu Kang turned to him. "We wait for the flash of the portal, genius. When that much energy is released at once, we will be able to see it from across the island. From there we can head out to find her before someone else does. It'll be any minute now."

"Excuse me then," Johnny said nonchalantly. "I'm gonna go find that blonde and get some face time before zero hour."

He lowered the sunglasses so that they hung on the very edge of his nose and gave them all a mischievous wink, clicking his tongue before turning his shades back up and making for the exit.

"Oh for crying out loud," Stryker whispered, shaking his head while the movie star made his exit. He turned to Cage, who was almost at the door. "She's not into you, man! Get it thought your head before she beats it into you!"

MKMKMK

Freefall.

The only word Kitana could think of to describe the effect of falling into an interdimensional portal. She felt weightless in the blue-tinted void, but the feeling of a warm wind against her face and a funny sensation in the pit of her stomach told her that she was indeed falling.

Somehow, despite there being no sense of direction or gravity in this place, Kitana knew that she was going somewhere fast. And she had a pretty good idea of what her destination would be.

Suddenly the blue void fell out from around her, replaced with lush scenery and the scent of sea air. The images came too fast for her to register that she had landed back on the island before she hit the ground.

She pitched in the air and rolled over her right shoulder, feeling the sting of her bare skin on a rocky surface for a brief instant before coming back up and onto her feet.

Kitana threw out her hands to catch her balance. Her boots found the dull and uneven stone pavement below, and she said a silent prayer of thanks for having successfully coming out of the portal unscathed.

She looked around. The broad, deeply green leaves of the trees native to Shang Tsung's island were hanging in numbers too great to count directly behind her. Thick branches strained under the weight of them, bending down from the stress of dampened greenery. Together with less-than-friendly looking thorn bushes that were strewn about in between the thick tree trunks, a wall of foliage had been naturally formed in this spot.

In front of her was a cliff with what looked to be a massive vertical drop down to the sea below. The deep blue water caught the sunlight with each passing wave, forcing her to squint from behind her mask to get a proper view of the beautiful scenery.

She was somewhere on the coast, but she knew not where.

Kitana looked around, crouching low and scanning the trees with careful eyes. After a long, silent moment of no sounds other than the water and her own powerful heartbeat, she declared the area to be safe.

She sighed with relief. _At least now any pursuers will be burdened with having to get through the barricade before they can reach me,_ she thought to herself.

Kitana adjusted the fabric of her mask before taking a knee on the pavement.

She took slow, deep breaths to coax the air back into her lungs. The fight with the woman had been intense, and Kitana now regretted not knowing who she was.

But regardless of identity, the fact that her agenda constituted Kitana being dead was unacceptable. It had to be her or the Woman in Red; kill or be killed. And since she had been the one who came out on top, she was now blessed with the opportunity to rest after the weight of such a discovery in the Flesh Pits.

"Urg!" a short grunt sounded directly in front of her.

Her head snapped up in surprise, looking toward the source of the noise.

But the source of the noise seemed to be the edge of the cliff, an impossibly steep drop off onto a rocky beach below. And she saw no one in front of her.

Her eyes widened as she whipped her head back and forth, looking desperately for an intruder. It had been a person, no doubt, and whoever it was had gotten a little closer to Kitana than she would have liked.

A fan was drawn from her boot and whipped open as she searched the bright foliage for an attacker.

The entire jungle seemed to be alive around her, each tree and fern able to conceal another body, another killer lying in wait.

If the Woman in the Flesh Pits was dangerous, whoever Shang Tsung had hired as a guard would no doubt be just as deadly.

"Hup!"

She heard the little grunt again, from the same place; back towards the sea, and again she thought herself to have lost all sense of direction, having misjudged the sound of an intruder.

Unless…

Suddenly a blackened hand erupted from the rough edge of the cliff, flailing for a moment before grasping an imperfection in the stone of the paved training area. Kitana caught a glimpse of five fingers and a palm that were colored the same shade of grey as the rock face from climbing bare-handed, and she could see a bruised set of knuckles as the hand fell and latched on to the mainland.

A second hand came up slowly, fingers probing the ground for another handhold for several slow seconds, eventually settling on a wide, slightly-loose stone that had eroded away from the rest of the pavement. The fingers slowly curled themselves around the rock and squeezed to hold on.

A long, painful grunt sounded as the individual made a final push to the top, pulling with all their might to get up the cliff.

Kitana gasped as the figure slowly materialized. _The American lived!_

His shaggy head of hair was followed by his face, which was twisted almost beyond recognition from the effort. He had a bruise across the bottom edge of his jawline and a deep red mark on his forehead, but otherwise seemed to be unhurt.

His current state was much divorced from the condition she had last seen him in; the moment before Ermac tossed his bleeding and barely-conscious body off of a cliff.

Kitana sheathed her fan and jogged over to Max, who was now half-hanging over the edge of the cliff as he wriggled his way to safety. His face was wet from perspiration and dirty from being pressed up against the edge of the rock for so long. Desperation and fear were visible in his expression, and were now probably the only things keeping him alive.

She bent down and grabbed the back of his shirt, quite literally dragging him away from the edge and hauling him to safety. He was surprisingly light, and Kitana had no problems towing the man several meters away from the edge of the drop off.

Kitana attempted to pull him back to his feet, but he collapsed to the ground instead, exhausted from the ordeal.

"Hey man, thank you so much!" he mumbled into the pavement as he savored the sensation of solid ground under his body. He honestly had no idea who had helped him up, but he was conscious enough to know that he had been given aid when he had needed it most. "I almost didn't make it there."

"How did you survive?" Kitana whispered in disbelief. The American looked worse for wear and appeared to be on the brink of passing out, but he was still alive.

"What?" he demanded from his position face down on the ground, recognizing the voice.

He rolled over slowly, turning over his right shoulder and falling again onto his back so that he was looking up at the Princess.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me," he laughed, shaking his head. "Of all the people that I expected to find me… you weren't one of them."

"I wouldn't have expected anyone to be looking for you at all," Kitana said, still very baffled at the sight of him being alive. "We watched you get beaten near to death and thrown off of a cliff… everyone assumed you had died. How is it that you still live?"

"Long story," he grunted. "I'll tell you about it later… after a glass of water and a very cold shower."

Kitana stood up to her full height, taking a mental note to ask him at a later time. She smiled underneath her mask, seeing an opportunity that couldn't be missed. "You owe me a rematch, Maxwell. I think it's about time you delivered on that promise."

He stared at her in disbelief. "Seriously? Is that a joke?"

"No."

"I'm sorry, Kitana. I must have given you the impression that I'm in any way prepared for a fight right now. My mistake," he said back.

She almost laughed, but kept up the serious guise. "I said that next time we met we would fight again. I'm fulfilling my end of the bargain…"

"BS!" he yelled in an exasperated voice. "I was _there_, and you never said that!"

"I challenge you, Maxwell Chacon. To Mortal Kombat!" she yelled at him, bouncing on the balls of her feet above him, doing everything in her power not to laugh.

"NO!" he yelled. "That's bullshit! How did you even know where I was climbing back up?"

Kitana broke out into laughter, unable to control herself.

"Wait," Chacon said, sitting up slightly. "You were just messing with me?"

"If I told you the world _gullible_ was written on the ceiling…" she said in a sly voice.

"I'd probably look up and ask where," he finished, laughing at himself. "Well played."

Kitana bent down and extended a hand. Max grasped it and rose back to his feet. He came back up to a standing position bit closer to her than expected.

For moment a lock of her hair soft, jet black hair grazed his shoulder, and butterflies began fluttering in his stomach.

"Thanks," he blurted out louder than he intended to. Max silently cursed himself before clearing his throat and resumed speaking at normal volume. "It's been a long day, and I don't know if I would have made it up had you not been there."

"You would have been fine," said with a wave of her hand. "Now how in the name of the Gods did you do it?"

He shrugged. "It's been a long day, Kitana. And we're still on opposite teams… so I might have to tell you another time. Have you seen Raiden?"

Kitana shook her head. "No, I haven't. Why?"

"Oh, nothing. I'm just going to kick the living shit out of him when I get back to the barracks," Max said in a dry voice, putting his hands on his hips and leaning on one leg.

"For the record I don't think he expected you to survive that. None of us did." Kitana explained. "And I no longer fight for Outworld… also a long story."

"So you're joining us?" Max asked eagerly.

"I believe so," she nodded. "I'll tell you about it on the way."

She started off suddenly, setting a brisk pace through the jungle.

"Come along! We have to get to Raiden before Shang Tsung's security arrives!" Kitana yelled over her shoulder as she gingerly stepped into the thicket.

"Hey Kitana!" Max called after her.

"What?"

"The barracks is _this_ way!" he laughed, walking confidently in the other direction. He shouted again. "So you had a long day or something?"

She nodded. "You could say that."

**What's up, guys? Here's the latest batch, please read and tell me what you think of the story so far. And Mileena's fate will be addressed later on…**


	20. Catharsis

I lead Kitana to the barracks, walking across the uneven ground with a weary, confident swagger. I had cheated death, but at the same time I had been given a reminder of how dangerous it would be to tempt such a fate again and expect to wake up. Each footfall felt like another opportunity to be grateful for what I had, and for what I could still do for this tournament, or what was left of it.

At first I had been furious about no one having bothered to search for me, but Kitana pointed out that the odds of me being alive were so steep that it would have only been a waste of precious time to look for my body. After fuming for a minute or two I began to calm down. I understood the logic of it, and I would have probably done the same thing had I been in Raiden's position, but somehow the fact that I had been the one to be left out in the cold didn't sit well with me.

I shook my head vigorously, trying to push the thought out of my mind. _It was the past, so let it be passed. Just leave it alone._

I gingerly stepped over the roots of a thick, fat tree trunk, with Kitana in tow. She looked worn out, exhausted even, from her ordeal earlier in the day. Her breathing was considerably deeper than I remembered, and her normal graceful steps were slightly awkward and unbalanced.

"So…" started suddenly, taking note of the uncomfortable silence in the air. "What's new?"

She lunged forward over a fallen branch so that she was walking beside me now, still looking around for hostiles. Leaves crunched underfoot as we padded through the thicket, towards safety and a chance to sit and rest.

"A lot," she said in a neutral voice. She peeled back a branch, stepped past, and let it swing back with considerable force. "I am not sure what to think of what has transpired today, just that I have been betrayed in the rudest of ways."

"Yeah, it sure sounds like it. It looks a lot like somebody tried to kill you; you've got a cut on your shoulder and a few bruises here and there. Looks like whoever it was didn't do a very good job though," I observed in a positive voice, looking around through the branches, fighting to stay focused on the fact that Shang Tsung's men could be watching at this very moment.

But somehow my conversation with her was taking precedence over everything else.

"Correct. I impaled her with her own blade and left her there for her master to find," Kitana said so matter-of-factly that it scared me.

"Jeez. Not exactly subtle, but I guess you made your point," I said back, unsure how else to respond.

"Oh no, I haven't made my point. I haven't even _begun_ to make my feelings clear to my Father and his allies. Much more blood will be spilled before I am finished, Max. Of that you can be sure," she said confidently.

I chuckled for a moment. "Hell hath no fury…"

She turned. "Pardon?"

"Oh, it's an old human saying. _Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. _Somehow it came to mind," I explained with a dry note of sarcasm.

She nodded in approval. "I still have trouble accepting what has happened… and what it will mean for my future."

I felt a pang of sympathy for the woman.

"That's the thing about the future, I guess. You never know what it holds… "I stopped and thought hard about what I was going to say next, taking care in the way I worded it. "I'm not gonna try to justify it for you or anything, or chalk it up to something about inevitability or the nature of people… I just- well, don't really know what to say Kitana. It really sucks, and I'm sorry it turned out that way."

Kitana thought for a long, uncomfortable moment before speaking. "It is a very strange thing isn't it, the way things work around here? I mean, how everything came to pass in such a way… it feels wrong, impersonal even," she said quietly. Kitana then shook her head in dismissal. "That sounded stupid, I don't even know what I'm saying anymore, and I'm just tired out from today. So very tired."

We let the silence hang: Kitana because she was exhausted and at a loss for words and me because I was afraid that I was going to say something stupid or offensive if I continued.

So the two of us walked in peace.

After what seemed like hours of trudging through the woods I finally spotted the building. Through the branches in front of me, I could see the boxy outline of the structure against the horizon as the sun began to set. And my God, the sunset was beautiful.

The bright orange ball appeared to meld with the jungle as it fell from its perch in the sky. The flecks of bright light that shone through the gaps in the trees gave the appearance of the forest being on fire, ablaze with the impossible heat of the sun.

I saw the barracks dead ahead; standing resolute on a hill above the fighting ground in the late evening. The square building never looked so inviting, and the sharp-looking dragons and symbols carved all around never looked so powerless.

Pale yellow light spilled out from the doorless entrance, washing onto the patch of ground directly in front of the wide passageway, giving the small patch of grass outside a strange hue.

Similar lights filled the windows, telling me that everyone had returned for the day. I saw shadows moving across the small windows from my spot in the treeline. Casual movements, probably. Everyone was most likely tired out from another day of fighting, and were now milling about in the safety of the building.

"Well," I said, rubbing my eyes and taking a deep breath. "Let's go."

MKMKMK

Johnny cage shot up out of his chair the moment we walked in. He was still wearing his signature sunglasses, but the expression of shock on his face was just as priceless.

"Holy hell," he whispered. He then turned around and shouted for everyone else to hear. "Guys! Check this out!"

I crossed the threshold into the common room, smiling at the sight of the familiar scenery. Johnny walked over to me, his face something in between happiness and total disbelief.

He offered a hand and I gratefully took it in mine, shaking vigorously like we were old friends.

"Man, how are you still alive?" he asked. "We all saw you get murdered the other day by Ermac. Tossed off of a cliff. Dead as a doornail."

"Ah, well… I guess I got lucky," I said, mulling over the chances of surviving the encounter and being found on the beach below after the fact. If my chances had been drawn as a pie graph, I doubt the piece entitled "Max doesn't get killed and comes back okay" would have been visible to the naked eye.

"No doubt," he said in agreement. He clapped a hand on my shoulder. "How'd you do it?"

"Long story," I laughed.

I watched Johnny's expression twist again as Kitana came in behind me, clad in her royal blue outfit.

"Very long story."

The others entered as a crowd, Raiden leading and Liu Kang close behind, into the common area from Johnny's shout.

I saw Kenshi, Stryker, Sonya, and two more fighters I did not recognize.

One was walking beside Liu Kang, and wore a slightly more modern outfit; a black, tight-fitting vest and loose black pants, and had a very interesting hat on his head.

The other reminded me of Sub-Zero, only with a grey-tinted uniform instead of black and blue. The traditional ninja garb was pulled taunt around his muscular body, and he had a facemask similar to Kitana's obscuring his mouth and jawline. His silver hair flowed like it was a single piece down the back of his head, obviously slicked down or somehow secured in place.

"By the Gods!" Raiden gasped. "It cannot be, you live!"

"I do," I said back, bowing slightly.

I heard the all-too-familiar double click of Stryker's Beretta as it was drawn and racked in a single movement. He was behind Liu Kang, aiming over his shoulder at me.

"Jesus H. Christ… you're dead!" Stryker exclaimed.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Kurtis," I said sarcastically, taking a look at his gun. "Oh, and it's nice to see you too by the way."

Raiden stepped forward. "How is this possible?"

"Through a lot of dumb luck, and a sorcerer who tried to recruit me," I explained. "He fixed a few things as an act of good faith, and left me at the bottom of the cliff to think over an offer he made me. See, if I joined him then he would show me how to beat Ermac, but I would also become his bitch. If not then I would have to climb back up the cliff on my own and… well, yeah. So I made it up, found Kitana, who is switching sides by the way, and came-"

"Wait," Raiden interrupted me, speaking in a sharp, angry tone. "You are now tainted with Quan Chi's magic? And you come back here!"

"I'm not _tainted_, Raiden. He just fixed a few broken bones-"

"You fool!" he shouted so loud that the walls shook. I jumped in surprise, and nearly collapsed when he stormed up to me. I took several steps back, stopping before I backed all the way out of the building.

"Quan Chi doesn't give you a chance to get away, boy! He ensnares you in his magic and deception and doesn't let you go. For all I know, you could be under his control right now!" he screamed in an exasperated voice.

"Oh hey, come on!" I raised my voice back. "Do you honestly think I am under mind control right now? Do you really, really think that? If so, why would I have walked my sorry ass back here instead of going straight to the Devil himself?"

"He could be a spy," suggested the Shaolin that accompanied Liu Kang. "Sent here to rejoin our ranks and destroy us from within."

I craned my neck and looked past Raiden, who had seemingly grown in height to address this new guy.

"Hey, you shut up! Nobody asked you, man!" I yelled at him. "Who the hell are you, anyway?"

"I am Kung Lao, here to represent the Shaolin order with Liu Kang," he said matter of factly. "Who are you?"

"Name's Max, and I have had a hell of a long day. Pleased to meet you."

He curtly nodded back.

Raiden turned back to me.

"I sense no black magic on you; no other wards or devices on your soul. You seem to be telling the truth," he said in a much calmer voice than he had been using a second ago.

Kitana stepped forward. "He is. I saw him come back up from the cliff without the help of Quan Chi. He is telling the truth."

She then turned to Raiden, and her expression softened.

"And thank you, Lord Raiden. For showing me the truth."

Raiden nodded in acknowledgment and spoke in a sincere voice. "I apologize for all that has happened to you, Lady Kitana. It is overwhelming for one to discover such a lie, and you showed considerable strength by continuing forward to face Skarlet immediately afterward, and winning. I could use a fighter like you."

Kitana nodded eagerly. "I will join your cause, Lord Raiden. There is much to do, and I look forward to restoring my homeland to its former glory."

They shook hands; with her small, bare fingers almost disappearing inside of his huge gloved hand.

Stryker holstered his weapon. "Well, good to know we're making friends."

Liu Kang stepped forward. "And it is good to reunite with old ones as well. Glad to have you back."

"Good to be back. What's been going on here lately?" I asked, relieved that I had been accepted back into the ranks of the fighters.

Raiden's face was grave. "Sub Zero is dead, and Nightwolf disappeared earlier today. There were signs of struggle in his living quarters, and a lot of blood. I believe he was taken prisoner."

"What?" I sputtered. "But those guys were tough, who could have done that?

The one who introduced himself as Kung Lao spoke up. "Sub Zero was murdered by Scorpion, despite Raiden's urgings that he should spare the Lin Kuei if he beat him. And we believe that Nightwolf has been taken by Quan Chi; the only other participant here that has such a knowledge of sorcery and spirits. He would have known a way around Nightwolf's defenses."

"I am sorry about your friends," Kitana said to the crowd. "Is there anything we can do?"

"We can keep fighting," Raiden said with a hint of a smile. The grin was a weathered, rare expression for him. "As of now, only Kenshi and Liu Kang remain in the tournament. Shang Tsung's fighters: Ermac, Quan Chi, and Scorpion are also still in the standings. We must eliminate them if we are to emerge victorious."

He turned to me and Kitana. "I have warned the others already, so know that the final fight for this tournament might not be a regulated brawl. We may have to resort to… desperate measures if we are to ensure Earthrealm's victory. You understand, yes? A more unorthodox method of kombat might have to be employed."

"An all-out melee? An assault on Shang Tsung's palace?" I asked excitedly. He nodded. "I was born ready for that."

Kitana gave me a quizzical look. "You were what? Never mind, I'm ready too."

On that note crowd slowly disbanded, and, after explaining my story several times, I left for my room as well. Finding the hardwood door to my bedroom in the narrow hallway had never been such a relief.

I threw open the door and stumbled into the large room that overlooked the jungle, taking a second to appreciate it a little more than I had the first time around. It was dark and lightless, save for the bit of light that came through the window from the moon above.

I could barely see straight I was so exhausted. I reached behind me and pulled the door shut before realizing that I was not alone.

Kitana approached from the left, coming out of seemingly nowhere and treading softly over the tiled floor. She was incredibly beautiful, even more so than when I had last seen her. The hair that flowed down her back was the color of the night, and looked to be as smooth as silk. The light of the moon reflected off of her tanned arms and abs as she approached. She had a soft, hurt look in her eyes.

"Hey there," I said softly, shifting uncomfortably from side to side.

"Hello. Do you have time to talk?" she asked in a voice that I couldn't say no to. Even now, exhausted, I still had time to talk.

"Yeah, sure thing. What's up?" I asked in a voice that was slightly less confident that it had been a second ago.

"This is a nice place," she observed. "I didn't get a good look at it when I first came in, but it is actually quite beautiful."

I remembered back to several nights ago when she had tried to get information out of me, pressing a folded-up fan against my throat and demanding answers.

"Oh yeah, here," I walked over to a spot in the floor where a perfectly circular hole had been drilled through the tile. "Remember that?"

"Ah yes, that was the part where you disarmed me, and my war fan was stuck in the flooring," she said, seemingly lost in the nostalgia. "That was a good fight."

"Yes it was," I agreed, feeling the ache of my shin from where she had struck it several times during the brawl once again.

"I won, as I recall," she proclaimed.

I turned to her. "BS! That was a tie, we called it."

"Maybe we called it a draw, but I think you took the most punches out of the two of us…"she said with a hint of a smile behind her mask.

"That… that doesn't count!" I protested. "We ended in a draw, I was there. That's all that matters."

"Uh huh," she trailed off.

"No seriously."

"Whatever you say, Max." She said coyly before we both broke into laughter.

She stepped out onto the balcony, extending her arms and leaning against the railing. Her eyes caught the moonlight as she looked out over the jungle, lost in thought.

I cautiously joined her, taking small and careful steps until I was standing next to her. She was a few inches shorter and a lot lighter than I was, but somehow I felt rather small at the moment.

"And now we're fighting Shang Tsung and his dogs," she mused. "Redeemed from our own respective hells to thwart his evil."

"When you put it that way, it sounds like it was always supposed to happen," I pointed out.

"And you think it wasn't?" she asked, confused.

"I… I don't know what to think anymore. With all this, I don't know what it's supposed to be, or how else it could have gone. That's the thing; you can never spend too much time wishing things were different, sometimes you just have to accept them for what they are, and then keep moving," I said with some conviction, rubbing my eyes. "Just keep on moving."

"Maybe, but you spend a lot of time trying to forget about things. Perhaps you should change your paradigm and try to remember sometimes," Kitana suggested, turning and looking me in the eye.

"What do you mean?" I demanded. "What's to remember before I got here? What, going AWOL from the military? Getting tossed out of virtually every place that I tried to hide in?" I sputtered.

"Or should I remember the part where I was in the woods, alone, hiking through the forest with nothing but the clothes on my back? The part when I realized that it was my nature never to belong with the rest of the human race. That part when I found out that I was the one who always screws up, always makes that fatal mistake. That moment when I realized that I'll probably never have a home, being hit with that knowledge and having a breakdown in the middle of nowhere. It was at that moment that I washed up on the shore of this island with a new purpose."

"Everyone belongs somewhere," Kitana said softly, putting a hand on my shoulder. I shivered compulsively when she touched me, even though her hand was warm and reassuring. I hadn't been touched in years by anyone who wasn't trying to rob or kill me, so it was instinct to reject her soft, open hand.

But after my uncomfortable shrug, she rested her hand on my shoulder blade again, and I accepted it without shaking.

"Believe me," she continued. "The time it takes you to find your place in the universe can be staggering, but once you get there… there's no going back."

I smiled. "Thanks… For believing in me."

She leaned forward and rested her head on my shoulder, carefully. She buried her chin into the fabric of my shirt and leaned on me. I resisted the urge to shake or shiver, and instead did the unthinkable.

I curled my arms under hers and around her semi-bare back, holding her in a tight embrace. I opened my palms and let them rest on her soft skin. My breathing slowed, and a feeling in the pit of my stomach told me that this was alright.

I felt her hands squeeze the small of my back in return. It was alright indeed.

We stood there in an embrace for some time, silent, and not thinking about the future.

In a sense, we weren't really thinking about anything at all. Just being there for each other was more than enough, and required no words to describe. We let our arms do all the talking for us.

At some point we fell asleep, I know, falling onto the bed still in the warm hug. But I lost track of time, and I didn't have a clue or give a damn when unconsciousness overtook the two of us.

But were there for each other, and that was alright.

**Hey everybody! Hope you guys had a good week, and here's the latest batch. Gimme some feedback and tell me what you think of the story so far. Next chapter the action is going to pick back up again, so stay tuned for more! **


	21. Best Laid Plans

For once, the next morning came on time; not too early, and not too late.

My eyes slowly opened and caught a glimpse of the morning sunlight seeping in through the window. The bright and eager sun had risen above the topmost trees in the jungle and was beginning its slow ascent into the sky.

I blinked several times at it, trying to gauge the time of day by its place in the sky. After a solid ten seconds of minimal effort, I resigned from the task. I'll find out later, I thought. I'm enjoying myself.

Lying here, finally lying down after a traumatic couple of days was a luxury of the highest order. The muscles in my calves and arms were aching; moaning in pain and making silent promises to intensify if I tried to fight again soon. For once my body and I understood each other, and I made a mental note to let somebody know that mid-morning training was not happening.

I took a deep breath, and felt my pecks push back against my expanding chest. Turns out that they were in sore shape too. I said a silent prayer that there had been no long-term damage to my rib cage or lungs during the fall that Quan Chi had overlooked. He was good, but I had my doubts.

I tried to move my arms again. Ouch.

I shifted my weight from side to side as I kicked off my shoes, which I had promptly fallen asleep in, and in doing so felt something warm bump up against my leg.

I turned and realized where the pressure on my chest had been coming from; not any injury, but an arm draped across my body. It was small in size, but a surprising amount of muscle was developed across the bicep and forearm, and the tanned skin was free of flaws save for a bandaged wrist and faint bruising on the outside of the forearms.

_Defensive wounds. She certainly knows how to block well enough_, I remember.

Kitana stirs for the first time in many hours, taking a deep breath and pushing the side of her head further into the crumpled pillow. She looked beautiful in the morning, and I averted my eyes just in time to avoid her own eyelids click open. The hand on my chest was drawn back slowly as she grudgingly sat up in the bed next to me, still in her "formal wear" and boots, and rubbed her eyes.

I decided not to make any comments on watching her sleep, and to keep my mouth shut.

"Morning," she announced cheerfully, a state I had yet to see her in. "Good sleep?"

_Grrr… Morning people. Just don't make a comment about having stolen a glance of her while she was sleeping._

"Uh, yeah. Not bad, not bad at all. You know you look really peaceful while you sleep."

Way to go jackass, you just screwed it up again.

"Yes, sleep generally is a time of little activity for most people," she confirmed, somehow completely missing the point.

It took a second for that to register as a friendly jab rather than a misunderstanding.

"Oh that's hilarious, Kitana. You're a comic genius," I said with a half-grin, shaking my head at myself for catching the meaning of the remark a second too late.

I took a deep breath and sat up, putting my back flush with the stiff, wooden headboard. I grunted as my lower back and abs protested the task, but I promptly sat myself up beside her, letting my head rest against the plaster behind me.

Jesus, if I could make it onto my feet, today would be a freaking _breeze_.

Kitana looked over at me and gave me an endearing smile.

"Are you ready for a day of kombat?" she asked. "A day in which our minds and bodies will be tested in the most strenuous way possible?"

I think that was a joke. Had to have been, right?

"Honestly? I wouldn't bet on me if I have to fight today. But I'll do what I can, just like always." I grunted and gingerly massaged my lower back, which ached like that of an old man only much worse. Much worse not only because it hurt to sit up straight, but because I knew that I would see action again soon and I would have to fight through it.

She nodded in approval. "I appreciate that, and so will Raiden. And Max?"

"Yeah?"

"Try not to fall off of any cliffs in the near future."

_Women._

MKMKMK

Kenshi took a deep breath and shivered. Despite being in the middle of a piping hot shower, a chill ran up his spine and made him shake all over.

Kenshi leaned against the smooth wall in front of him and let the stream of water from the shower head cascade over him. While travelling on missions, he had developed something of a fear of being in water or heavy rain. The latter impeded his hearing with heavy thunderclaps and the constant feeling of being soaked was pressing on him, masking his remaining senses.

And even though he could swim, he didn't trust his heightened senses to be able to guide him to safety should he fall into a stream or ocean.

Kenshi rapped his knuckles on his temple and shook his head repeatedly, trying to shake the thought loose from his mind. Loose strands of hair fell in front of his face, and he ignored them as he continued to try to think about nothing.

Nothing. Not even his quest for revenge. Kenshi had made the decision that he would take some time to forget about the cruel injustice done to him by Shang Tsung. He was tired out from the physical exertions he had undergone the past couple of days, and needed time to think positively about the coming events.

Or he really just wanted to enjoy his shower.

At least the water drowned out the violent and harsh thoughts in his head for the moment. Long had they brewed and stirred in the front of his mind, unforgotten and unsettled. They had begun to set into an awful concoction of revenge and bloodlust, knowable only to Kenshi, who silently carried his hate with him as a child would carry a gun; hidden, but barely within control. Ready to go off at any moment.

For days, he had desired the feel of the Sorcerer's very warm, very human blood on his clothing. The hell he would send that man to would seem like heaven after the treatment Kenshi had given him. He had dreams about skewering him with his beloved sword, Sento, but had woken soon each delusion after to discover that they were but fantasies.

He had been the first to awaken that morning from such a dream, and decided that he needed to refocus. Even though he refused to speak it aloud, Earthrealm's fate was at the mercy of the coming fights. And if Kenshi's mind was elsewhere during the middle of his next brawl, then he would surely end up dead.

Kenshi rolled his neck, hearing two of the vertebrae in his upper spinal column sound off with sharp pops as he loosened them. He let his mouth hang open as droplets of water clung to his lips and eyelashes, dripping down leisurely after their own weight tore them away from their nooks in Kenshi's naked body.

He let his mind wander everywhere, and nowhere. Meditation was an exercise he performed regularly and half-heartedly, much of the time during the cleansing was spent calculating the odds of success should he face Shang Tsung in mortal kombat.

The odds looked grim, but Kenshi let himself forget about everything for the half hour he spent soaking. He let his hatred simmer down and retreat into the back of his mind for the first time in a long while, letting the anger go.

Kenshi hung his head and smiled, actually forced a smile.

Today was going to be a good day.

MKMKMK

Sonya slid her fingers across the uneven surface of her dog tags. The bumps and ridges that etched out her name in the metal never felt so meaningless. She felt like her old life, the only one she truly knew how to live out and find comfort in, had been left forever behind by this tournament.

For now she fought for the very survival of Earthrealm, and nothing less than total victory would be acceptable. She had come here pursuing Kano, but was now fighting for much more than that.

She now was burdened with being on watch, looking out for Liu Kang as he continued to advance in the tournament and keeping a close eye on Kenshi, who now believed himself to be above her control.

But Kenshi was still very much a part of the Outworld Investigation Agency, and she was still his handler. If he believed that this tournament changed the chain of command, he was sorely mistaken. She secretly envied Kenshi's steely resolve and ability to work through his problems, but she would never admit that to him.

Sonya Blade had to be tough, tougher than the rest if only to survive.

She absentmindedly hung her tags around her neck, watching the identification cards dance as they fell down over her chest.

She reached over and tightened the strap of one of her gloves, feeling the fabric pulled taunt across her hand.

Kano would answer for what he did to her partner. He alone would be held to account for his crimes. Once she had Kano, things might get simpler.

But until then, she continued checking her weapons and gear, finding comfort in the meticulous work, and all the while imagined her small fingers wrapping themselves around Kano's windpipe.

MKMKMK

Liu Kang stepped out of the barracks, barefoot and shirtless, to meet the early sunrise. He traded the cold wooden floor for the comforting warmth of stone pavement underfoot, still retaining heat from the previous day.

He stretched his arms out wide and yawned. He felt only slightly sore from the fight yesterday. Sektor had not landed any blows at all, but the fatigue and adrenaline dump after the conclusion of a fight is more exhausting, and much more memorable, than any other sensation.

_Winning a fight feels like running a marathon in the mountains,_ Bo Rai Cho had once told him, _but it tastes like victory._ And taste good it did.

Liu lowered his arms and looked out over the tops of the massive tropical trees at the horizon beyond, imagining the entire island as a utopia. If Shang Tsung hadn't corrupted this place, it might have been one of the most peaceful on Earth.

He swiftly retrieved his blood-red headband from the pocket of his pants and began to fasten it around his forehead. The tug of the material was a welcome and familiar one to the Shaolin monk as he secured the cloth in place.

Liu Kang closed his eyes as he balanced himself on a single foot, drinking in the warmth of the sunrise.

MKMKMK

We all gathered around the table in the dining area after breakfast, and nobody said a word about what was going to happen next.

Everyone was holding their breath, waiting for someone else to be the hero. I could just tell that no one wanted to be the one to step up to present a plan of attack. Even Stryker, who looked to be one of the likely candidates for coming up with a feasible plan, silently cleaned his gun and stood against the back wall.

Smoke and Kitana's expressions remained neutral under their masks, but I could tell that we were all thinking the same thing; something needed to be done about Nightwolf, and something needed to be done about the creature found in the Flesh Pits, whom Kitana told me was named _Mileena, _her replacement for the "daddy's-little-killer" position in Shao Kahn's operation.

Everybody was standing around expectantly while myself and Kenshi were leaning against the wall, both still sore and unwilling to stay standing up straight for the uncomfortable amount of time we would crowd around in this silence.

I drummed my fingers against the wall and sighed. Somebody had to say it.

"Alright, so we have to save Nightwolf, make sure Mileena is dead, and win this tournament. What's the play?"

I looked around, trying not to get red from embarrassment. It wasn't my position to tell these killers and fighters what they needed to do. I wasn't their boss, their commander, but I chose to speak up anyway.

Johnny Cage grinned and nodded slowly, gaining confidence as he mulled over his idea.

"I say we go Mission Impossible-"he started.

"No," Smoke cut him off. "That's not how it's done in real life."

"Yeah?" Johnny challenged. "How would you know?"

Smoke shrugged and threw up his arms. "Oh, my goodness you're right! It's not like it's my job or anything to assassinate and extract information from people is it? I mean, that isn't what I have devoted my life to since I was a child-"

"Alright then, smartass. How are we supposed to do it?" Johnny asked crossly, a bit irritated at the man's sarcasm.

Smoke stepped forward. "It's so simple: we break up into teams based on skillsets and-"he looked at me and Kenshi"-varying degrees of health and combat-readiness and divide up the tasks evenly amongst ourselves."

"I'm sorry," Stryker stepped up from his place beside the dining table, folding his arms and squaring his jaw. "But why is it that we have to ensure that Mileena is gone for good? I mean, if we win this tournament it won't really matter-"

"Not an option," Kitana said sharply, shooting him a steely glare with her brown eyes. "She is Shao Kahn's daughter now. Even if Shang Tsung is defeated and Shao Kahn killed, she reserves the right to begin a new mortal kombat tournament as soon as she inherits the throne of Outworld."

"Princess, would it not be possible for you to take your father's place after he has been removed from office?" Raiden asked in a somewhat humble voice.

She shook her head. "I do not think so. Lies and propaganda about my change of heart will have proliferated to every corner of the empire by sunset. We are better off defeating him in mortal kombat and leaving the Tarkatan hordes and the Centaruians to squabble over the throne."

"Sounds like a tall order," Sonya said suddenly. "How do you propose we pull it off?"

We all turned back to Smoke, who suddenly appeared apprehensive.

"Hey, it was just an idea," he said gingerly.

"Well that idea is about the only thing we have going for us right now," Stryker said dryly. "I'm all ears."

Smoke shot me a glance and I nodded in encouragement, giving him the _keep going_ motion with my right arm, nodding expectantly.

"Well, if there is no other option out there, then the best course of action would be to take action," Smoke said confidently. "Take action, split into three teams; one to stay here and fight in the tournament, one to destroy any remnants of Mileena and the Flesh Pits, and a third rescue team to find Nightwolf and bring him back here."

"Divide and conquer," Sonya said quietly, nodding as she mulled it over for a minute before looked up at all of us. "That might work."

"Wait," Johnny held out a hand as if to physically stop the argument as he interrupted. "The tournament is priority _Uno_ right now, everything else can sit in the back seat until we make sure Earth is safe."  
>"We'll be fine, Cage," Kenshi said with a hint of contempt.<p>

"I mean, it's not the plan itself, but have any of you ever seen _Alien_? What happened when they tried to split up, huh? I'm just saying, I've seen way too many movies to know that this isn't going to work," he said, working his way toward a smile as he continued. "Okay, in _Star Wars III_, they split up to duel Anakin and The Emperor. That didn't work. In _Ghostbusters_, the dude got slimed-"

"Anything constructive to say?" Sonya asked impatiently, turning her chin up and staring the movie star down. She cast him a glare that came close to freezing him in a block of ice, fed up with his antics.

He looked down in defeat, shaking his head.

I smiled. "Well, I'm in. I can be a hell of a lot more use in Outworld than here..."

"Ditto," Stryker agreed. "I've got some experience with search and rescue, so I can take the team to get Nightwolf."

"I'm with you," Sonya said with conviction. "Wherever they're holding him…" she cut off midsentence, hesitating for a second before continuing. "There's sure to be guards. I'll go with Stryker and I'll bring him back."

"And I'll lead the team to the Flesh Pits," Kitana declared. "There are sure to be sentries this time, and I'll need some help getting past them and destroying the place for good."

"I'm with you," I said quickly, maybe a little too quickly for my own good. Sonya and Smoke exchanged a glance while Johnny wore a sinister grin.

"Princess!" a new voice spoke up from behind us.

I recognized the voice, but had forgotten the name.

I turned quickly, expecting trouble from the entryway. But I instead found a woman with a dark complexion wearing a bright green outfit that reminded me of Kitana's. Her knee-high boots sounded off like gunshots as she strutted across the tiled floor and over into our little circle. In her left hand she twirled a short stick absentmindedly, and I watched Kenshi grimace as she stood between him and Kitana.

He knew the voice, and I'm sure he remembered the combat staff the woman carried, concealed as a harmless-looking baton in her grip.

Jade was her name. Kitana's bodyguard.

Johnny's jaw about hit the floorboards, and Smoke raised an eyebrow and looked away, feeling uncomfortable.

"Jade!" Kitana exclaimed. "How is it you found us?"

"Don't underestimate me, Shang Tsung's men already made that mistake earlier today when they tried to kill me in the woods. It'll take him a considerable amount of time to find the bodies," she announced proudly, giving the stick another spin before turning and facing the rest of us.

"I will fight for Edenia, and for Earthrealm," she told Raiden. The Thunder God nodded in approval, and the bags that had developed under his eyes disappeared for a second. A new ally was music to his ears.

"Where Kitana goes, I will follow," Jade added with a slight bow toward the Princess.

Kitana blinked several times, as if she was in shock or trying to hold back tears. "Thank you, Jade. I really appreciate that."

"Awesome," Johnny cage smiled mischievously. "You know, I'm glad we're getting so many people on our side now. Hey, my name's Johnny Cage, what's yours?" he said with the sort of charisma that made his intentions as clear as day.

He stuck out a hand, and Jade was unsure how to respond, visibly taken aback by his forward gesture.

"Alright, you don't have to answer that," Stryker said, stepping in between them. "Bottom line, good to have you here on our side."

Jade must have been coy with Johnny, because she grasped Stryker's hand immediately, very familiar with the gesture indeed.

"Alright then, it's settled," Raiden announced. "Kitana, Jade, and Max will destroy the Flesh Pits and collect anything worth keeping from the Sorcerer's lair. Stryker, Sonya, and Smoke can break Nightwolf out of wherever he is being held in Outworld. The rest of us will remain here, and keep up the guise that we are still at full strength."

"I know where your shaman is being held," Jade said. "I can give you information about how to spring him from Quan Chi's hold."

"Much appreciated," Sonya said flatly, obviously not willing to trust the newest members of our team. In a way she was right; if Jade and Kitana really were bad, the she might be the only one paranoid enough to survive should they attack.

But I knew that at least Kitana was loyal to us. I felt like I _knew_ her; somehow, better than anyone else here, save for her friend. For a moment I waited for Sonya to follow up her remark so I could give a harsh rebuttal back, but Sonya knew where to draw the line. She resumed listening, catching my glare from the corner of her eye.

"I will be able to reopen the portal to the Flesh Pits. It will be much easier than trying to generate a new portal out of thin air," Raiden said quickly, weighing the odds in his head and pacing back and forth across the room. "Given a few hours, I will be able to land one team in the Flesh Pits and the other somewhere within the immediate area."

"Fantastic," Sonya said with a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "And I brought some toys for the break in, should anyone be interested…"

"Dibs," Stryker and I called at the same moment, raising our hands to lay claim on the hardware before anyone else could. I doubted many of the others had been in the military or had training in that sort of thing, so I guess our urgency was only our own.

We exchanged an excited glance that was not shared by the others. Funny, it almost reminded me of when we were friends, about to suit up for a mission. He would nod his head and let himself smile a bit, and I would get pale and withdrawn as I prepared my body for the task to come, eventually giving him a grin back.

Everyone was excited about our new approach, and I found myself slipping into old habits.

I crawled back into the recesses of my mind, taking deep breaths and trying to slow my beating heart. An electric current hummed in my veins as energy passed through my body. Let myself get too amped up, my adrenaline rush and consequent exhaustion would come too early. Don't get amped up enough, and then I'll be unprepared for combat.

In my mind it felt like I was always on the brink of failure, and rightfully so because most times I do something, it'll be stupid and reckless and awesome. Emphasis on the first two. The fine line I walked became something of a game in my head as I navigated my thoughts, putting some in the forefront of my mind to remember and cramming some into the background to forget.

A chill went up my spine, and something told me that this was a half-assed plan. Doomed to fail. As desperate as it was cocky.

But something else shot up, flipped that other sensation the bird, and kicked it out the window. This would work out, although maybe a little different than planned.

I couldn't decide which to listen to, but while I made up my mind, I went to nab a water from the kitchen.

And a fresh ice pack.

**Hey everybody! New chapter is officially up and complete. I thought about jumping to the punching/kicking/eye-gouging immediately, but I needed everybody to assemble and get a plan together before they began to battle. So while that's coming next time, I hope people enjoyed what I've done with the characters and their own motivations thus far.**

**Until next time, have a good one.**


	22. Assault Pt 1

The portal glowed in front of us, bright and blue and electric. The energy that stemmed from the black void in the middle emanated a navy blue glow that slowly faded into the air around it at about 12 feet from the center. The atmosphere around the supernatural passageway appeared to be on fire; shimmering and slightly reflective.

My wind of the vortex cut flowed through the dining area, which had been cleared out in preparation of our departure via Raiden's means of transportation. He told us that this would have been safer to call forth that portal outside, but we couldn't risk anyone finding out our true purposes until we had returned. At that point it would be too late to save the Flesh Pits, or recapture Nightwolf, who was currently being held by Quan Chi in Outworld.

I tilted my head to the side and turned it to the left until I felt two short _pops _in the vertebrae in my neck. Still sore, and still stiff in my _everywhere_. My lower back in particular ached like none other, and my head felt several sizes too big from being swollen and bruised. I had been helped along by healthy doses of ibuprofen and the regular application of an ice pack, but there was little that could be done about it in such a short time without altering my state of mind: something I was not game for.

I winced as I remember being hit across the face by Ermac's left hook, and then kicked in the space between my ear and my cheek while I was on my knees. Hard hits, hard and fast.

Maybe someday we would meet again, and I prayed to God that it was under different circumstances… or that it would end with my foot pressing on his throat.

But I would be able to do my job well enough for now, provided that there were no hitches along the way.

Stryker walked over to where I was seated, leaning back against the table and drumming his fingers on his well-polished gunbelt.

I nodded in acknowledgement before turning back away, wondering why he was there.

Stryker sighed. "Oh, what the hell? I think I have something you could use."

I perked up, turning in my chair so that I faced him. "You gonna give me a gun, partner? I didn't know we were that friendly."

He reached into his back pocket, rummaging for a second before retrieving a black cylindrical device and holding it up for me to see. After a moment of thinking, I remembered what it was.

"We're not that friendly, but I thought you would want this back," he said, flipping the narrow item over in his hand and offering it to me.

I carefully lifted the collapsible baton in my hand, remembering how I had always carried the 28' beating stick around in my belt in case I ran into trouble. Stryker had confiscated it a while back, among various other possessions of mine, and I never thought I would see it again.

"Damn, I thought this would be mothballed in an evidence locker or something," I exclaimed, snapping the baton out to its full length with a flick of my wrist. The extended rod was the color of night, and reflected light off of it with a desirable sheen. My favorite weapon had a comfortable, heavier-than-it-appeared weight, and it felt pretty good to hold again.

"Well," he said, shrugging. "I don't want you to go in there without a weapon now, there's still a chance that we could see the end of this if we play our cards right."

I slammed the tip against the floor, hard, to loosen up the locking mechanism before pushing the rod back into the handgrip. "Hey, thanks for that, man. I appreciate it."

He got up and began to walk away. "Yeah, whatever. You still owe me a Beretta from the other day. I spent two hours in the bushes looking for that, jackass."

I laughed and he half-grinned, tightening the straps of his combat harness while suppressing a chuckle.

"Hey Stryker, you know what? You still owe me that Eagles' Greatest Hits CD I let you borrow like, five years ago. But God knows I'm not gonna get that back either!"

He waved a dismissing hand and walked away to discuss the strategy with Sonya, who was staring at our exchanged with disbelief and annoyance. I couldn't blame her for worrying about us laughing about old problems right before a risky mission, but in another way I wondered how she coped with the stress of looming danger.

I shook my head and decided that it would be best not to ask her.

Kitana and Jade insisted that they be given no weapons or gear from Earthrealm, saying that they "might break them" or misuse them in the heat of battle. I found something darkly amusing in that.

Stryker and Sonya armed up, with the cop packing a SPAS-12 combat shotgun in addition to his sidearm and other weapons, and the Special Forces operator carrying a submachine gun of some type, slung over her shoulder as she paced back and forth, waiting for the assault to begin.

We were busy going over last minute details, exit strategies, and almost everything unexpected that could happen during our mission. And Jesus, there was a _lot_ that could go wrong.

I took a seat next to Kenshi, who nodded to me before turning his ear to the wall, listening for intruders. I wonder how he knew it was me. Did everyone have a certain scent or aura that he could detect, and if so, how did he keep track of everybody like that?

Raiden was busy inspecting the portal he had constructed, occasionally whispering a curse under his breath as he circled the vortex.

I saw someone approaching out of the corner of my eye, and whirled around to see who it was. My heart rate spiked for a second, and my hands began to rise up into a guarding position in front of my face and throat without me even thinking about it.

But it was only a friend. Only a woman wearing blue, and approaching from the direction of the massive portal shimmering in the middle of the room. I had certainly frightened her judging from the nervous look on her face.

Red with embarrassment, I fell back into the chair that I didn't even remember jumping out of.

"Oh. Hey," I took a deep breath when Kitana sat down next to me, masked and ready for action.

"Still excitable I see," she said softly. "Are you always this nervous, or is this week an exception?"

"I think the word you're looking for is jumpy," Kenshi said from his place next to me in a tone that was somewhat more positive than usual. "It's a good thing, keeps you alive."

"Thanks," I said dryly, not knowing if he was complimenting me or just a stating the facts. "When are we going?"

"Right now," Kitana said, softly punching me in the shoulder before rising from her chair. "Time to depart."

I clapped my hands together and walked to the entrance of the portal, ignoring the screaming from my calves when I rose to my feet.

Jade was already there at the entrance, flipping her staff around in her hand while she waited. I couldn't read the look on her young, round face either. Man, I'm really out of it today.

Kitana and I approached together, almost in step with each other and a little closer together than I was used to. I could feel the fabric of my untucked shirt brushing against her hip for the briefest of instants, and that was more than enough to make me feel awkward.

Jade took the initiative and shouldered her way in between us. I moved aside easily, not wanting to get in the way of Kitana's protective best friend.

I thought I heard Jade mumble _that's better_ under her breath after she muscled her way in, forming an awkward trio out of an already-comfortable duet.

Jade and Kitana exchanged a glance that I didn't quite catch before Jade stepped forward, almost inside the portal. She was ready for action.

"You know the plan!" Johnny shouted above the noise. "Make it happen!"

Raiden put a hand on my shoulder. "Good luck! Return as soon as you can! I'll be waiting."

I nodded, and took the first step into the void.

MKMKMK

The sensation of being put through an interdimensional portal could only be compared to that of jumping out of a plane. It was fast, with an invisible wind hammering your face as you went. The thing in the pit of your stomach that tickles when you rapidly descend sends energy through your body like you're on a rollercoaster; that sensation of hurtling straight down with no sign of stopping that can't quite be explained to those who haven't felt it.

And guess what? I enjoyed it.

So much so that I forgot about the part where you suddenly stop.

A blank, uneven picture of aged pavement suddenly materialized in front of me; first as a mirage in the distance, and then as a stark reality only a few feet away. My eyes widened in shock as I realized I was about to face plant on it.

"Ground!" I yelled as the blue tunnel began to fall away into a dark, bare environment that looked to be Outworld. I wonder if they expected us, or if we were indeed undetected.

I threw my right shoulder forward as I dropped like a stone out of the portal. I tucked my head close to my chest and rolled as soon as I felt the ground rise up and hit me. Thankfully, the surface wasn't nearly as hard as it looked, and I came back up and onto my feet, almost losing my balance for a moment before finding purchase.

My shoulder ached with a dull, lazy pain that was a massage compared to the other injuries I had received in the past week.

I had missed the concrete by a matter of feet, and come down in soft, unpacked dirt instead. Kitana and Jade had too missed the hard surface, but by a much larger berth.

The second thing that hit me after the ground was the humidity. I staggered and took a good, long look around. It appeared to be night here, with blackened clouds and no sunlight overhead. Then again it might have been the day, because there was a surprising amount of visibility and a clingy, unreal moisture hugging me. I breathed in deep once, and felt like I was _drinking_ the air. The temperature was probably greater than that of the tropical island, which in itself was quite something.

The combat vest I had been given was gonna get very old, very fast here.

I looked over at the two women. Kitana was brushing herself off while Jade scoured the area for signs of guards, or any of Shang Tsung's fighters who just _happened_ to be waiting for us. I think she caught on to the fact that I have that _ifshitcangowrongitdoes _disease, and it's contagious to anyone who happens to standing too close to me.

I took a knee in the dirt, and felt a dull sense of discomfort through the fabric of my pants. The earth below me was hard, unforgiving even. There were no loose pebbles or grains of dirt above the layer of what appeared to be clay covered in ash. It was as if the surface of this world were a single, solid rock.

Kitana let out a groan, and I quickly turned to see what was wrong.

She threw her arms down at her side and shook her head furiously, visibly pissed off at something.

"What's wrong?" I whispered.

"By the Gods, Raiden dropped us _outside_ the gate!" she practically wailed in a soft voice.

I looked farther ahead and saw it, about a hundred yards ahead, over some blackened and dangerously uneven ground.

The graveyard-like wrought iron fencing surrounded a particularly menacing estate. At the center was a single, dilapidated building that looked like it belonged in the _Lord of the Rings_ movies. The structure was in the shape of a broad pillar, with blackened stone and imperfections dotting the architecture that still resembled the original building. In its prime, it must have resembled a cathedral with its grand spire, now only a half-standing pile of rubble, and the massive holes in the walls where windows had once been had probably been beautiful.

But whatever it had once been could only be speculated upon by our trio as we crouched low on the rocky ground. I unsnapped a breast pocket of the vest and withdrew a pair of field binoculars.

I crouched down low, looking down from the small up rise of land we had landed on and peering down onto the graveyard. It only now occurred to me that if they had seen the bright blue flash, we were done for.

But if not, the slight incline between us and them would make for good concealment.

"What do you see?" Jade asked urgently.

"Shit," I whispered.

"What is it?" she asked again, crawling closer to me.

"We have what looks to be a two-man watch guarding the gate," I said, panning the field glasses over to a pair of men in black clothing. "I see one, two, and… three pair of men acting as rolling patrols on the grounds, mixing up their routes and keeping in radio contact. Looks like they're checking in every five minutes or so."

I zoomed in; silently thanking Sonya for coming here prepared with equipment, and saw that both sentries were wearing very modern clothing. Their tactical vests were almost exactly like mine, and each of them had an automatic weapon of some sort slung over their shoulders. In addition, I saw a pair of semi-automatic sidearms hanging by down by their thighs, each secured in a low-hanging leg holster. I squinted even more until I saw the logo stamped on one man's sleeve.

It was a faded image of a blood-red patch with the dark markings of a pair of symmetrical dragons hovering around a cross. Unlike most unit patches, there was no number of other forms of insignia to tell what faction they represented.

"Mercs," I whispered.

I turned to Jade and Kitana, who were lying on the ground next to me.

I raked my index finger in a nearby patch of dirt, doing my best imitation of the insignia.

"Okay, those are dragons, one on either side. Those men have patches like these on their left shoulder, black markings on a red backdrop. They're packing modern Earthrealm gear and plenty of it. Professionals, probably ex-Special Forces or something like that. Any ideas on why they'd be here waiting for us?" I asked, a little bit pissed off that we would be facing machine guns and bulletproof armor instead of bows and arrows.

"Black Dragon," Jade whispered. "Kano's men. They're a crime cartel from your world, Max. Kano got drunk one night on the island and told Kitana and I all the details of his arrangement with Shang Tsung: The Black Dragon is now Shang Tsung's private security detail, on account of the fact that you alone were able to fight and kill several of his old guards. The Sorcerer was understandably worried about a repeat of the incident, especially since more and more of you were arriving by the day.

"So the old man decided to step it up a notch and pay Kano extra to have his men flown in from their current base in Japan. They're martial artists, killers, and former military men… all twisted souls that give their services to the highest bidder, which happens to be the man who owns this particular residence."

I took a deep breath and cursed myself. I knew that letting Kano live was a risky maneuver, and it had indeed come back to bite me in the ass.

What's worse is that I wouldn't be the only one paying the price for my decision.

_Goddammit_, that sucks.

Kitana read my mind.

"Sparing him was not such a noble choice after all then," she said in a tone that made me regret the decision even more, and made me a little bit upset with her.

"Sure makes our task much more difficult," Jade mumbled in agreement before changing her tone to a bright and naïve one. "But good job, Max. You kept your honor intact and that _is_ what matters. Forget the fact that we now have to fight our way through Kano's minions-"

"Well gee, that's condescending," I said in an equally sarcastic voice, disproportionately pissed off at her tone. "Killing him wouldn't have changed a thing. Someone else would have taken his place and made the deal, and we would still be here."

We sat in silence for a long, uncomfortable moment.

"Wait," I said suddenly. "We may be able to use this to our advantage."

"How?" Kitana asked.

"They still think that I'm dead, remember? Now listen, I have an idea-"

MKMKMK

The guards saw me coming from over the hill, a lean figure in a black combat vest and cargo pants. Now that might not have been as suspicious if we were in a world that:

Was inhabited by humans

People around here actually dressed like that.

They both raised their weapons with a daunting series of clicks and spoke quickly into their radios, spreading the word that someone was there.

I heard the one on the left yell at me in Mandarin, a language I do _not_ speak, and the other shouting in English for my convenience.

"Hey, stop! Get on your face before I drop you!" he bellowed in the voice of a drill instructor.

Seeing the barrel of his automatic rifle get bigger as I took a few more steps toward him was an experience that was truly unforgettable.

Looking down the barrel of a gun is almost like fast-forwarding through a movie you're watched more than once; you see a lot of familiar images in just a few seconds, and the experience will almost always end with nothing but black.

The images were memories from my life, some flashed in tandem and some instantly recognizable.

But for this to work, I had to keep going toward them.

I focused on putting one foot in front of the other. And in doing so I noticed that the laces on my right shoe were much longer and in looser knots than those on my left. I noticed that the pants I had been given were half a size too big, and that some of the Velcro in my combat vest was giving my loose shirt a little _tug_ every time I stepped forward.

Never noticed any of these things before, never thought about correcting or appreciating them. Not until I was about to die.

I was just about to start getting nostalgic about bigger and better things that had happened in my life when he shouted again.

"Last warning! You know, I don't _have_ to take you alive!" he sneered, pissed off at my disobedience.

I shook my head suddenly and laughed, slowly raising my hands in a gesture of mock surrender.

"Say that again, to my face!" I challenged in my best smartass voice.

"I did, but in case your dumb ass missed it, here you go!" he said, clearing his throat. A quartet of men had already started to gather behind him, behind the fenced in boundary, rifles angled at me.

"I'll kill you where you stand if you don't get on your face and shut up!" he said, staring intensely at me from behind the holographic sights of his gun.

_Right about now._

"Oh, no," I said in a reassuring voice. "See I heard you and everything the first time. I just wanted to make sure you were facing me so that she could take out the men behind you."

Panic flashed on their stony faces.

The two of them whirled around at the sound of one of Kitana's fans disemboweling one man and burying itself in the chest of them man next to him, going through both of their Kevlar vests like they were paper Mache.

I reached behind me, fingers wrapping loosely on the handle of the collapsed steel baton, and charged forward with a sudden yelp.

My yell brought the two men's attention, and a second afterward, their guns, back to me.

Before they could draw a bead on men, I clicked the release button on the nightstick, which was now halfway out of my waistband, and gave it a pull.

The device snapped out to its full length of just over 2 feet as I brought my hand upward, doing a curl with an imaginary weight, and tossed it underhand at one of the men.

The small weight on the end of the device caused the baton to spin wildly midair until it connected with his skull. The sound of his yellow-tinted shooting glasses shattering confirmed that the baton had found its target. That would buy me a few seconds at least.

I jumped upward in the same moment, pulling my stiff legs as high up as they would go, and shooting them forward in a fly kick. My right foot connected with the forestock of second man's gun, crushing the knuckles on his left hand against the carbon fiber of the weapon.

There was a loud snap and the man's gun fell away into the dirt.

He came back at me fast, faster than I had anticipated.

Jade had told me they were either former military or martial artists with weapons training, so I should have known better than to believe him to be taken out so easily.

A straight punch came from his unbroken right hand. It might have connected with my jaw if he hadn't already been off-balance.

I put my forearm tight against my face and ducked to the right, stopping the blow.

His weight was already forward, and he suddenly lunged, forehead first for a head butt.

I quickly reached across his throat with same arm, grabbing the left side of the collar of the gi-like uniform he wore under his body armor and putting the rest of my lower arm flush with his windpipe.

The quick motion left my forearm tight against his throat and elbow popped up next to his chin, paralyzing the attack.

The muscles that were required to snap his head forward refused to budge when faced with a potentially deadly lack of air, and his instincts overcame his training.

I then ducked under his still-extended right arm, popping my right elbow out to smack his ribs as I went.

I heard a pop and he staggered, right arm temporarily useless from the hit that connected just below his armpit.

I spun around behind him, pivoting 180 degrees so that I was facing his back.

I lunged forward with my own straight-on punch that connected with the back of his head, practically jumping into it with the power of my entire body as opposed to only my shoulder.

He went down face first with a thump, unconscious or worse from the blow to the base of his skull.

I whirled around, seeing the second man rising up from his doubled-over position, in one hand cradling the rifle that was hanging from his shoulder and tossing aside his broken glasses with the other.

He turned, bleeding from somewhere on his forehead and squinting, definitely not ready to fight.

I latched one hand around the forward handgrip of his rifle, going in an upward motion while using the other to separate his hand from the trigger of the gun.

The best way to do that was to swing my hand downward in a chopping motion and strike the top of his wrist, the weakest part of the entire human arm.

He let go of the gun and I gave it a tug my direction before yanking it back and clapping the guard on the head with the barrel.

With a simple twist, I swung the stock forward and bashed him across the head with the stock.

He dropped like a ton of bricks to the floor, out cold. And now his gun was mine.

I looked up to see Kitana deliver an uppercut with one of her fans to finish off an unlucky guard, killing him instantly with the sharp weapon.

Suddenly, a guard that had been but a heap of the floor a moment ago now stood up, pistol raised and aimed squarely at her.

I didn't think about it, couldn't think about it.

The motion was an instinctive as breathing; I brought the stock of the weapon up to my shoulder and fired twice. Two soft bucks from the weapon, and two bright flashes of lightning.

The would-be killer shuddered twice as the bullets struck him before collapsing in a heap.

Kitana wheeled around, a fan in each hand, frightened by the sheer volume of the shots.

I lowered the rifle and waved casually to her.

She nodded back, withdrawing the blades of a war fan from the body of the fourth guard and walking towards the gate.

The rusted steel gave with a simple push from the Princess. I thought for a moment and laughed to myself about the number of enchantments Shang Tsung must have put on the outside of the gate only to have it opened from the inside by Kitana.

The Princess motioned for me to move faster, and I hurriedly took a pistol off of one of the dead men's holsters and a spare magazine to match before jogging inside the gate.

She slammed the gate shut behind me.

"Let's go!" she whispered as we took off in a sprint across the grounds. "Someone will have heard that."

Jade ran at us from the left, collapsing her bright purple staff and running alongside Kitana and I on our way to the Flesh Pits.

"Where to?" I asked, already on an adrenaline rush from our first engagement.

"Here," she said, pointing ahead at a staircase that lead down into the Earth.

And down into the jowls of the Flesh Pits we ran.

MKMKMK

"What the hell is going on up there?" Demanded a crazed Shane Barrigan from the command center he and his men had established inside Shang Tsung's lair. He and the four men with him had heard the gunfire from upstairs, and jumped up from their various states of sleep and relaxation at the sound.

Kano had instructed the men to set up an interdimensional radio relay and bunks on the concrete flooring, safely away from Shang Tsung's equipment. It was from his bunk that Barrigan grabbed his M4 carbine and chambered a round after screaming into his radio.

There was no answer over the comm. He dropped the small black box onto his cot and looked to the four men around him.

"Maatman, Ting, watch the door. Anyone who enters without yelling the password first gets shot, no matter who they might appear to be, understand?"

The Austrian former Cobra EKO military man and the Thai kick boxer both nodded quickly and hustled to the entrance.

"Rawlings, put out a general distress. Wake up the Tarkatans; let them know bad shit is going on in their back yard. And Franco-"

An extended burst of machine gun fire interrupted his order. Barrigan hit the pavement as his two watchmen were torn to shreds by an automatic weapon.

Barrigan rolled onto his feet just in time to watch a bladed boomerang sail through the air and bury itself into his chest.

**Hello everyone, hope you all had a good weekend. Sorry for the delay. In all honesty, this was the most difficult chapter to write for me. I normally do heavy editing and revising twice for each chapter you see (i.e. the fight between Max and Ermac was changed pretty drastically from what it originally was, and Max and Kitana's return to Raiden was rewritten several times) but I wanted to make it good, so thanks.**

**Review and gimme some feedback. Until next time…**

**P.S. I have no effing idea what to put for the cover-image of the story, in case anybody didn't pick up on that. So yeah...**


	23. Assault Pt 2

"Clear!" I yelled. Aside from an assortment of massive storage tanks that were lined up against the far wall, and the bodies of the four men who attempted to defend them, were alone.

I ran towards the back of the room on my toes, making little sound on the stone flooring. My heart rate was still pumping fast and hard, but not as furiously or sporadically as before.

I brandished the gun to the left and right, looking behind crates and operating tables, peeking past piles of garbage and unused medical supplies, covering every inch of the room until I could be sure that we were not being watched.

Jade bent down, withdrawing her boomerang from the squad leader's chest and pocketing it in a single motion. She danced between the fallen mercenaries, checking each one for a pulse before moving on to the next.

Kitana started to walk faster as we advanced, holstering her war fans inside of her boots. She quickly accelerated to a dead sprint down the middle of the dungeon, boots clapping the floor like gunshots as she ran.

I felt a sudden anger well up behind my eyes; Kitana had effectively contradicted the careful and methodical approach Jade and I had taken by racing toward the middle of the chamber.

She darted past me, on a collision course with a set empty set of operating tables.

"No, Kitana. Don't worry about being quiet. It's okay… no, I know there could still be Black Dragon thugs with guns around here but don't worry," I deadpanned in a mockingly sympathetic tone.

She reached one of the central elevated slabs that was used as an operating table and slammed her fists down onto it, apparently not hearing me. The echo of her thin hands smashing against the stone reverberated throughout the chamber at an impossibly loud volume.

"Ouch," I said. "What are you doing over there?"

She turned to me and appeared to be on the brink of tears. Her eyes were brighter and moister than I had ever seen them, and her brow was furrowed with sickening anger.

"Do you know what this is?" she asked suddenly, motioning to the operating table.

I jumped and about pulled the trigger on the rifle when both of her hands smacked that damn table yet again like it was a drum.

I took a deep breath and threw the strap of the gun over my shoulder, securing it onto my back before approaching her.

"That looks to me like an empty table," answered Jade, who was quickly approaching and a little frightened at her friend's state of mind.

Kitana pointed a long index finger at her friend, shaking severely.

"Exactly. An _empty_ operating table, Jade. And do you know what is not on an empty operating table?"

"Um, anything?" Jade offered, tilting her head and leaning in. Her green eyes sparkled in the dark, and showed some of the concern that her mask covered.

"Precisely, sister. There isn't. Anything. Here." Kitana said slowly.

Suddenly, it clicked.

"Oh, I get it. We came here looking for Mileena and… yeah. She must have left," I said, honestly afraid of offending Kitana.

There was a horribly uncomfortable silence. I shifted my weight back and forth, trying to think of something to say, but nothing came.

A long, exaggerated moan shattered the stillness.

I whirled around and my quickly found the grip of the machine gun, bringing it to bear. _One of the guards must not quite be dead._

I looked over the bodies of the Black Dragon mercenaries for a long minute, eyes flashing between each at a dizzying pace. At this level of fright and combat stress, things began to play like a slideshow in front of my eyes as opposed to a movie.

I saw the dead commander lying there on his bunk where he had fallen. Then I was seeing the radio operator shot dead at his post. Then another flash to the two men at the door.

_I don't get it, they can't have survived that._

The feeling that hits me like a blow to the gut whenever I know I did something wrong fell like a blanket on my senses, sharpening them, making them frantic.

I heard it again, long and low and miserable. But it was from behind me this time.

All weapons were out now; a machine gun, a pair of fans and a bow staff were all turned back to the space behind us.

We all saw him at once. A familiar face, lying in the corner in a heap. Ropes and chains fell around his body, wrapping themselves in knots like a pile of snakes around the muscular form underneath.

"Nightwolf!" I yelled. I lowered the weapon and dashed over to him, followed by my new allies.

"American? Max?" he asked in a dazed and dreamy voice. "How did you find me?"

Half of his face was swollen beyond recognition, with a massive black and red bruise puffing from his chiseled jaw, temporarily sealing his left eye shut. A cut had drawn a thin, red line from his bare shoulder blade up to the nape of his neck, and a dried patch of blood that was the same color could be seen just below his hairline.

"Jesus man, what did they do to you?" I asked in disbelief. The last time I had seen injuries this bad was when I had been beaten up by Ermac. It was dizzying to think that the savage pounding had taken place only a few days ago.

"No torture, just the fight with Quan Chi. He surprised me, I should have seen him coming-"

"Be calm," Jade said reassuringly. "We're here to help."

"What?" Nightwolf demanded, turning away from the Edenians. "Max, they are our enemies!"

"A lot has changed, Nightwolf. A lot. Just take my word for it that those two are on our team. I can tell you about it on the way," I said, kneeling down and digging through the pockets of the combat vest for a blade of some sort. "I just need a damn knife right about now. Sonya must keep something like that around here…"

I had just found a compact flashlight and a small brick of C4 in a compartment when Kitana shook her head and swung her fan at the chains, severing them with a single hit. They clinked and clattered to the floor, no longer bound to the shaman.

She and I exchanged a glance.

"Sorry," she said. "The whole knife-fiasco was taking a little too long for my liking."

"Yeah," I said dryly, drawing a mental blank in my effort to think of a cleaver comeback. I instead tucked my arm under Nightwolf's shoulder and lifted him to his feet. Jade took the other side, and together we hauled him up to his full height.

"Can you stand?" I asked.

"I- I think so. Come, we must leave this place. But tell me, how did you come to look in this place for me? I was told that the Flesh Pits were the very last place one might search for me," Nightwolf said, genuinely confused.

He shooed me and Jade away, standing unsupported against the wall while he waited for an answer.

"Well," I explained, dropping the nearly-depleted magazine out of my weapon and letting it clatter to the floor. "See it's kinda funny that we found you here after all," I grunted as I dug two magazines out of the combat vest of a dead guard and slammed one into the gun, pocketing the other.

"It actually wasn't our job to find you. That was-"

Jade's eyes hollowed in sudden horror. "Stryker and Sonya," she gasped. "And Smoke!"

"Shit!" I spat, overtly pissed off. I gave the magazine I had ejected a vicious kick that sent it skittering to the other side of the room. "Nightwolf was their mission, and now he isn't there."

"They'll be killed looking for him!" Kitana lamented, cupping a hand over her forehead.

"Worse," Nightwolf groaned. "Quan Chi and Scorpion ambushed me back on the island. They threw me into Shang Tsung's lair and told Kano's men to watch for any rescue attempts. As they were departing, they told me that this was the last place anyone would look for me, and that something _special_ was prepared in the place Quan Chi expected you to search. I'm so sorry."

"Save it, we gotta get you out of here first," I said in a hurried tone. I spotted another streamline rifle laying on the ground and grabbed at it greedily, unable to resist the thought of more firepower. The weapon, with a slightly translucent magazine so that the operator could see how many rounds they had left before a reload, was both aesthetically appealing to my male psyche, and probably necessary given how many men we had already come across.

"What is it with you humans and guns?" Jade demanded, gently guiding Nightwolf to the door while I slung the other rifle over my shoulder and checked the load on the one I had taken from the guard upstairs.

I grunted in response.

"They're cowardly!"

"And excessively loud," Kitana added, rubbing one of her ears.

"You know, I've never met a spy who didn't appreciate hardware," I said, honestly surprised. "If you ever took the time to shoot a gun, you'd know how I feel right now."

Our trio turned quartet made its way back to the stairs and, in extension, closer to the surface of Outworld. The Flesh Pits creeped me the hell out on a few different levels. First of all, those storage tanks looked like they were filled with bile, and were large enough to hold a person or two indefinitely.

And then there were the nasty-looking tools beside the operating tables, laid out methodically and catching the light as I would walk past them, kind of giving themselves a sinister sheen.

And then there was that cold, deep-rooted thing in my gut that told me without a doubt that many had perished in these depths. Horribly, needlessly, they had been killed. But for what purpose? I almost didn't want to know.

Nightwolf was hunched over like he had just been punched in the gut and now had an uneven walk as he treaded up the stairs, refusing to be carried or helped along by us. In some weird way, I really admired that.

A silent promise was made between Kitana, Jade, and I not to make his slow pace noticeable, treading along considerably slower ourselves. I took lead with the long gun and Kitana and Jade lead Nightwolf close behind.

I took my time going back up the winding staircase, panning the rifle back and forth slowly, stopping once because I thought I had heard something. In reality I was doing this so that Nightwolf didn't think he was slowing us down. His pride had taken almost as much of a beating as he had, and I didn't have a strong desire to wear on it any further.

Finally, we reached the surface. It was unbearably humid, and the dried sweat that had settled on my back gave me a bit of a chill when my shoes hit the ground. That chill was the last feeling of coldness I would feel for a little while, since it was still hot as hell. I sensed a headache coming on for a second, probably encouraged by the humidity and adrenaline combination.

I shook the feeling off and adjusted my grip on the weapon, looking past the holographic sight and down the top of the barrel for any survivors who might try to do us harm. But the bleak realm was once again empty.

I suddenly had an idea. Stryker's team was also in Outworld, and I might be able to connect to them via their comm devices since we were all on the same plane.

I grabbed at my radio and began shouting frantically at them.

"Stryker! Sonya! This is Chacon, get out of wherever you are right now and get back to the portal. I repeat, this is Chacon; we have Nightwolf and are taking him back now! Get the hell out of there, it's a trap!" I yelled into my handset as we jogged back to the open gate of the Flesh Pits.

We made our way back to the ridge that we had landed on, setting a breakneck pace across the uneven terrain in our frenzied rush.

"Get on your goddamn radio!" I huffed as we half-climbed over the hill. I turned to Jade, who was a few steps ahead of me.

"Hey Jade, how far away are they from our current position?" I yelled.

"Some leagues," she grunted, sidestepping a large rock before regaining her pace. "Or many kilometers, in Earthrealm measurements."

"Yeah, how many?" I asked, wrapping my hands around the lip of the ledge and pulling myself up, swinging my legs around and putting my feet back under me. After a second of teetering, I leaned forward and regained my balance on the higher plane.

We stopped to help Nightwolf, who accepted one of each of our hands and hauled himself up over the rocky slope.

Jade didn't say anything.

"Come on Jade, now isn't the time!"

"Oh by the Gods, about forty kilometers!" she wailed in an exasperated voice. "But we have to bring Nightwolf back to Earthrealm before we can even think of assaulting The Threshold."

"The what?" I asked, confounded by this new, scary-sounding title.

"The Threshold," Kitana explained. "The common name for the prison in which Shao Kahn's most dangerous enemies are held; said to be the gateway between the Netherrealm and Outworld because of the brutal torture and violence that transpires within. Once a being, be they Edenian or Shokan, enters, they might be checked out or turned loose, but they can never leave. Part of them will still be left in that hellish place…

"Jade gave your friends the layout of the building as well as a few pointers on where Nightwolf will be held. Stryker and Sonya will be in there somewhere, looking for him."

"How big a prison are we talkin'?" I asked, already weary about making the journey into freaking _Mordor _to find my friends. And hell on Earth didn't seem like the type of place to go waltzing into.

"It is a tower, ten times ten stories in height," Kitana said gravely.

"What the hell? I thought this place was still in the Dark Ages! I mean, how did you guys even build a place like that to house all those scumbags?"

"Shao Kahn did it the same way your Pharaohs did," Kitana explained in a flat tone. "With dedication, vision, and a lot of cheap, expendable labor. Many levels are below ground, closer to the Netherrealm. Those hold the enemies of Quan Chi, and the ones closer to the sky house Shao Kahn's most feared adversaries."

"Peachy," I deadpanned before turning back to Kitana's friend. "You're right, Jade. We have to get Nightwolf back before… wait, Kitana did you say that once you're in The Threshold you can never leave?"

"Yes," she said in a slow, cautious tone. "It's an urban legend, why?"

"I don't know… do the people who tell urban legends around here listen to _The Eagles_ by any chance?"

MKMKMK

Johnny Cage and Kenshi were deterred from their sparring match by the reappearance of the massive portal in the dining area. They both lowered their fists and jogged to the opening, anticipating the return of the heroes.

Jade and Nightwolf fell out of the void first, the latter groaning miserably at being thrown into the ground after having suffered such a tremendous beating.

Johnny hurried to the Shaman and hauled him onto his feet. Kenshi approached the crowd cautiously at the familiar scent of Jade, who had severely wounded him several days previous, and guided them to a chair.

Kitana and Max came through next, neither landing as gracefully or with as much finesse as they planned; with Max doing a laughable combat roll and Kitana landing awkwardly on her toes.

"Hey Wolf, good to see you, man. Looks like they got the better of you back there," Johnny observed as he pressed a damp towel against the Shaman's forehead.

"Looks… can be deceiving," Nightwolf grimaced, almost managing a smile.

"Kenshi? Kitana? Anyone know how to patch him up?" I asked. "He's pretty bad."

"I'll see to it," Jade said, stepping forward and nudging Johnny out of the way as she began to treat Nightwolf's wounds. Jade was no doubt experienced in the practice of field medicine, as she must have gotten around to it at some point during her 10,000-year life.

"Wait, weren't the other guys supposed to find him, and you fellas were going to make sure that the Flesh Pits was destroyed?" Johnny asked, confused.

"Yeah, that was the idea. But Nightwolf was being held in the Flesh Pits, so we got him out and everything, but there's a trap waiting for Smoke, Sonya and Stryker when they go to break him out of the prison," I told him.

"Where is Raiden?" Kitana asked, looking to and fro in hopes that he was somehow still in the barracks.

"Yeah, this information would definitely fall into the category labeled: _Shit he Should Probably be Told_, but he isn't here. He went out with the Kung Fu twins to the morning matches," Johnny told me.

"Well somebody needs to tell him!" I shouted in a desperate and shamefully high-pitched voice. _"As in Right the hell now!"_

Kenshi turned to Johnny Cage, unable to see him but mimicking the gesture. "Well, since only one of us can run at a fast enough pace without crashing into things…"

"Oh, fine!" Johnny yelled, running toward the door.

"Tell him that we've gone to find Stryker and the others!" Kitana yelled after him.

I did a double take and turned to her. "Wait, we did?"

"Yes," she hummed in a sing-songy voice. "You coming?"

"Yeah, can you redirect this portal to the coordinates Raiden dropped those two off at?" I asked desperately, not in the mood for a nine kilometer hike.

"I believe so… give me just a second," she whispered as she began to address the constantly-moving fabric of the opening.

I turned to Kenshi.

"Hey, do you want me to leave you a gun or something, just in case?"

He turned, and it took a second to register that he was scowling.

"Oh, I am really sorry about that. I'll just be going then," I backed myself out of his non-glare and stepped forward at the portal, ready to find my friends.

"Wait!" Kitana suddenly gasped. "This thing cannot be activated without Raiden's direct involvement, he must be here for it to function."

"Where the hell is he?" I demanded at no one in particular. "Johnny left about… 30 seconds ago. That is too damn long when lives hang in the balance."

"I am sorry about your friends," Jade lamented without looking up from her work on Nightwolf. "Walking the distance between the Flesh Pits and the Threshold would take even longer than waiting for Raiden to teleport us back. You must understand, it is not my desire to leave Sonya and Stryker there. I rather liked Sonya…"

"Really?" Kitana asked. "The woman always appears to be in a frenzied rush to get someplace that she isn't, and I have observed this behavior ever since she arrived. I did not know she had time for friends."

"The way things are going, I'm surprised any of us do," Jade whispered. "She is a strong woman, she will make it through."

"Yeah, and Stryker packs a wallop. It'll take more than Quan Chi and his servant to put him down," I assured myself, only half-aware that I was speaking out loud. "I don't much know the new guy, but he seems alright."

"But what if we're wrong?" Kenshi spoke up from the back corner of the room. "What if we can't save them?"

"We can," Jade said in a determined, grim tone. "Only if we believe that we can, then it will be done."

"I admire your conviction," he complimented. "A good attitude can carry a traveler a lot farther than his strength."

That was the first time I've ever heard Kenshi give anybody a compliment, and I wasn't sure what to make of it. Kenshi was a rather sullen, withdrawn person from the time that I had known him.

The little bit of wisdom he shared with Jade probably meant more than she would ever realize.

"Alright then," Kenshi continued. "What's next?"

**Edit: Whoops! Forgot Smoke was with them for a second...**

**Hey everyone, new chapter up and a part 3 will be arriving shortly. (Again, I realized how long this whole sequence is and that it will take at least another chapter to advance the plot in a correct and non-haphazardly fashion.)**

**Kudos to anyone who understands **_**the Eagles**_** reference Max makes… and I have a little something below.**

MKMKMK

**For any gun fanatics out there, I did a bit of research and found some ideal weapons for the characters.(Dunno why I put so much time into this section, just wanted to be thorough)**

The Black Dragon guys have the Heckler and Koch HK417 battle rifles as their standard-issue weapon. It is a hard-hitting precision rifle that fires 7.62 millimeter rounds and fits the bill for a newer, more robust infantry weapon. Max takes one from a guard in this chapter, and several other men have various attachments (an extended drum magazine, a flash suppressor, and a weighted barrel, among others) for their specific duties. For example, holographic sights are briefly described as being equipped to the rifle Max uses.

A few of the mercenaries pack AK74's and M4 carbines instead of the HK17's.

Stryker carries a pair of Beretta 92FS semi-automatic handguns just like in the games, losing one after he made the mistake of loaning it to Max.

In addition to his handguns, Stryker carries a SPAS 12 shotgun with a collapsible stock that is folded over the top of the weapon. That particular model, given to him by a hyper-prepared Sonya, is a semi-automatic military grade version (seen in _Black Ops_ and briefly in _Jurassic Park_) instead of the civilian pump model.

The Black Dragon guys carry Beretta Px4 Storm .40 caliber pistols (mostly kept in their holsters, and one is later taken by Max) as their standard-issue side arms. Some are later seen with sounds suppressors and tactical flashlights.

Sonya carries a Glock 23, also chambered in .40 S&W.

Sonya's submachine gun is a heavily customized MP5SD, with a holographic sight, double-taped "jungle style"30-round magazines, and an added handgrip and tactical flashlight.

Kano himself will be seen in later chapters carrying a full size Heckler and Koch USP handgun, chambered in .45 AUTO.


	24. Deception

Her hands were shaking, trembling out of control as she held the picture in her hands. The small piece of parchment that had been colored on in painstaking detail had been seamless when she had first stolen it. Now it was crumpled and permanently shriveled around the edges from the hours it had spent in the young woman's pocket. Although, the portrait that had been drawn was still beautiful and so heartbreakingly perfect.

_Shaking, shivering, twitching uncontrollably._

The woman ran a lone finger over the fabric, and feelings she didn't have words for flooded her mind and body. Her blood ran hot with rich, exciting anger, and suddenly she was ready to break down the walls; to fight in wars that had only been dreamt of, and to destroy monuments in the name of a new order that hadn't been imagined yet. That raw, primal, urge to destroy in the name of wordless rage fascinated her. It scared her in a way she liked very much.

_Electric, unstoppable, unmatchable._

But in the same instant her heart rate slowed considerably, and she felt the warm, rare sensation of human affection. The feeling of kinship that was inborn, something Shang Tsung couldn't have removed or modified in the tank. That feeling of protection, of bondage to her sister that she had never met. If only she had awakened from the tank sooner…

_The tank. The hell. The rapture… no, not the rapture. Rapture meant happy, another word was needed to describe the pain and unprecedented flow of toxins and magic through her veins for days on end. The flood of knowledge and the sudden muscle memory of kombat that was gifted to her violently, quickly by the incubation fluid had not been pleasant. It had made her impossibly strong, and fast as well. But happy? She didn't quite know what happiness was yet, but it couldn't be this._

_Not rapture then, another word to describe it, something terrible…_

_Confinement? Penitentiary maybe? All those poetic words the sorcerer's magic taught me seem so… fleeting. They all describe things that have already been established, already been described. And Mileena wants new._

She shook her head as she thought in the dark silence. _Bitter, comforting silence,_ she thought. _My only friend._

_It is there for me,_ she reassured herself. _It is there to welcome me into its invisible embrace only when my friends have gone and my enemies have fallen._

For the silence was about to be shattered like heated glass. The quiet and the waiting would be replaced by bloodshed and yelling… and revenge.

Revenge for things that no one had any control over, but revenge that belonged to her nonetheless. Revenge was her birthright because she said so, and would be exacted because she was the more capable, and therefore she should be the one to survive and prosper after the death of her sister.

She let her wild, yellow eyes fall to the picture one final time before preparing for kombat. She stroked the image of the face of her sister, Kitana, in despair before crushing the paper in her fist.

So perfect, so beautiful, and so dead.

Monuments will fall, she thought. And beauty that was once thought to be eternal will be forever tarnished. Forever scarred, and in no way beautiful ever again.

_Oh yes_, Mileena thought to herself. She grinned with her hideously-wide set of Tarkatan teeth in satisfaction.

_I want to destroy something beautiful._

MKMKMK

Stryker took the corner in front of him unusually slow by most people's standards. In movies, cops and soldiers whirled around corners and walls like they were in a race to get shot; or like they somehow knew that no perp was lying in wait with a gun.

Stryker knew from experience that it took the human mind several seconds to register new surroundings when they were suddenly thrown in front of the eyes.

And in that time delay, when you have your gun up and are looking around trying to get your bearings, the probability of getting shot is unbelievable high.

And this place was no crack house or office building; this was the largest prison in Outworld. The damn thing was shaped like a tower, with crank-operated lifts and spiraling staircases constantly in use. The vast quantities of food and water being hauled back and forth made him realize just how many killers and thieves were being held here.

And how many guards the three of them would have to deal with if they were found out.

He, Smoke, and Sonya were spread out across several dimly-lit hallways searching for Nightwolf. The task of finding him in this place was proving to be more difficult than any of them had originally thought.

Even fanning out so that they could cover more ground yielded no results. The trio stayed at the very edge of visual range in case anything went wrong, but even that hadn't been enough.

Stryker took slow steps across the loose grating on the floor, keeping his shotgun tucked tight against his body. He heard muffled shouts from another level below him, the sound of a door slamming, and then nothing.

The architecture in this place screamed of crude construction and meant to cause deliberate discomfort for the inmates. Walls were slanted inward and seemed to be closing in on him as the traversed the complex. Floors were covered with loose metal grates and stones that magnified the volume of his footsteps, severely slowing all three of them down in their quest to find Nightwolf without being detected.

Smoke told him that this effect was deliberate to make the guards' footsteps more intimidating, and to give them the illusion of having a much larger presence than they actually did. The trick with the uneven walls was to perpetually disorient prisoners who were in transit to make their escape attempts less effective. If you can keep someone feeling slightly off-balance, then it's that much easier to control them if they try and fight back: This principle was used not only in this building, but also in martial arts disciplines such as Judo and Jujitsu.

The temperature in the prison was actually comfortably cool to subvert the aggression and angst that came with heat. People tended to come closer together when it was cool; which is why diseases are spread the most in winter, and why most fights and arguments occur in stressful, humid environments.

Whoever built this place was an intelligent son of a bitch, Stryker thought as he passed another row of rusted steel doors.

He peeked through the little windows in the cell doors as he went, searching desperately for the Shaman. Many of the rooms held only one prisoner, and all the humanoids in the rooms seemed to be either asleep, playing cards silently, or just staring at a wall.

Damn I'd hate to be penned in inside this hellhole, he thought as he prepared for another corner, another corridor that needed searching.

"Find anything?" Smoke's voice crackled over the radio. "This place is like a graveyard… but not nearly as welcoming."

"Nothing here, over," Sonya whispered back. Stryker could see Sonya out of the corner of his eye peeking into the rooms.

"Same story," Stryker said grimly. "This is some bullshit. Why didn't we get to search for that one clone chick again?"

"Because we're damned fools," Smoke said flatly. "Stay alert, another patrol just went by. Black Dragon I think."

"What the hell are they doing here?" Sonya demanded in a furious whisper. "I didn't know Kano brought back up."

Stryker started to circle around the corner when an open door came into view, only a few meters away.

This wouldn't have been unusual if the blue-grey light of a computer monitor hadn't been spilling out of the doorway.

"Found something," he whispered. "Looks like a comm room of some sort. The whole setup looks a bit high tech for this place. Somebody get over here."

Stryker listened, and heard nothing but static.

"I repeat, I've found something important. It looks like a security office or comm room. Backup would be appreciated people."

Again nothing.

He looked back to where he had last seen Sonya. She was gone. The hallway was completely empty.

"What the hell?" he thought out loud.

Completely empty. No guards. No nothing.

But why no guards? He had only seen one patrol of men on the way in. He had assumed that one rolling patrol of men was assigned to each floor. Only now did it occur to him that one squad of men for dozens of prisoners was dangerously out of proportion.

Stryker suddenly realized what was going on.

"Dammit! If you can hear me then get the hell out of here! It's a trap! Meet at the rendezvous point!" he whisper-shouted into his radio.

He heard a trio of shots ring out somewhere nearby. A long, wild burst of machine gun fire reverberated throughout the tunnels followed by a terrible scream.

Stryker turned to face the noise, ready to rescue his friends. A million thoughts raced through his mind. _Where were they? What had happened? Who had done all the shooting?_

When he completed his turn, his mind didn't even register the image of a closed fist sailing at his face.

The uppercut rocked his entire body backwards; whipping his head back and forcing the rest of him to follow. Blood welled in his mouth as the punch pinned his tongue between his teeth and he nearly bit it off entirely.

There was nothing he could to cushion the fall, and his back slammed into the unforgiving metal grating below.

Black clouds washed in front of his vision, and the lights on the ceiling above him faded in and out of focus at random as his mind tried to discern what had just happened. He knew that he had been hit, but by what or who was anybody's guess.

A second later he saw a figure materialize above him. It appeared to be a human, but any distinct features were dulled to a silhouette by the light in the background.

Suddenly, a heavy combat boot stomped on Stryker's chest, pumping all the air out of his lungs. His shoulders and head fell back against the floor as he gasped for breath, unable to get up.

It was everything he could do not to pass out from the blow. For a moment he wondered if he had been hit with something heavier than a closed fist, or how the hell much the person weighed who had stomped on his chest.

He instinctively groped for his weapon, but it had since left his hands and was lying idle on the floor. The barrel was facing away from him and the arched handgrip begged to be in his hands again. The weapon looked to be in working order, otherwise undamaged from the fall, unlike him.

Stryker watched helplessly as his shotgun bumped and slid across the floor as the man gave it a kick with his other foot.

The combat shotgun made a popping noise as it hit the far wall of the corridor, unquestionably out of range.

Stryker blinked several times and the man finally came into focus. And he was very familiar, clad in a black and gold outfit that left only his muscular arms bare. A ribbed metal mask was fixed across his jawline and left only his eyes and a small part of his forehead exposed. A pair of serrated blades formed an X on his back, and gave him the appearance of a true demon.

"You," Stryker hissed.

"Surprised? You had to know that coming here was an obvious trap," he rasped, staring down at Stryker with his pale, fiery eyes. "But we knew you would come anyway. Humans… so loyal to our own kind."

"Who's we?" Stryker grunted. "Last time I checked, it was just Quan Chi… just him and his pawns."

Scorpion laughed; a horrible, deep gurgling sound that came from the bottom of his throat.

"You believe that because I serve a master that I am of lesser stuff?" He leaned in close to Stryker, balancing on his toes as he folded his legs in a deep squat. The cop thought he smelled ash and soot on the man.

"We all serve our own masters, Kurtis." He reached out and flicked the badge hanging from Stryker's neck with a gloved finger. "All of us, no matter what, we will always be servants to our own destiny. The question, though, is which master will you serve in the end?"

"Who told you that one?" Stryker asked sarcastically. "Did he tell you that to comfort you before you swore your allegiance to the Devil?"

"Oh, I think Quan Chi is a better man than you realize. Better than you at least," he said, shaking his head as if he was ashamed of his opponent. "How do you think we found you here in the first place?"

Stryker spat out a gob of red spit and looked away. _How did they know?_

"Ah well, food for thought I guess," said nonchalantly, rising to his full height. "You'll have plenty of time to ponder it in your cell."

"Thank you," Stryker whispered in a dry voice.

"For what?"

"For letting me catch my breath."

Scorpion's eyes widened in shock. His opening attack came swiftly and from high above, but Stryker was expecting it.

Scorpion lifted his foot up high and brought it back down for another hard stomp.

Stryker twisted quickly, using his core to shift his body out of the way. At the same time he wrapped one of his legs around Scorpion's other boot, sweeping the specter off of his feet.

Scorpion grunted as he too fell against the metal floor.

Stryker rolled backwards over his left shoulder and came up to his feet, weapon drawn.

It took no time to find the ninja, who had already kicked up onto his own feet, in his crosshairs. Without the gun, Scorpion might have already been on top of him by the time he had reoriented himself.

Stryker took two steps back; he didn't even want to tempt fate by underestimating the speed of the former Shirai Ryu.

Scorpion was seething, and out of range to use either of his swords.

Stryker heard a gun cock behind him.

"Drop it or I'll drop you!" a man screamed at the cop. The man who had been operating the communications in the small room, no doubt. He was probably good with a gun as well, and there was no way for Stryker to turn fast enough to fire before he would be filled with lead.

Stryker lowered the weapon, hesitant to relinquish his firearm.

"Now!"

Stryker decocked his Beretta and rested it on the ground, holding his hands up for Scorpion and the Black Dragon man to see.

"Now back away!" Scorpion ordered, pointing a finger at the man standing behind Stryker. "I'll finish him."

Stryker heard the barely audible noise of the man behind him lowering his rifle before he took several steps backward, anticipating the unstable nature of a brawl.

"I am going to enjoy watching you die, Kurtis. Just like I enjoyed killing your friend Sub Zero!" he laughed wickedly, tilting his head back and reveling in the no-win scenario he had put Stryker into. His hands closed into monstrous fists, and the muscles on his bare arms seemed to grow with his rising anger.

Scorpion's sudden and sadistic joy changed as if a switch had been flipped, for now the anger that burned inside him had boiled over. His eyes grew an even brighter and paler shade of white, and Stryker smelled smoke on the man's clothing.

Scorpion gave the cop a feral growl before leaping forward, taking a bold offensive approach.

Scorpion came up fast with a high straight kick, trying to connect the bottom of his boot with Stryker's chest in the quickest manner possible.

Stryker jumped to the side, not even trying to stop the kick in favor of avoiding it. His own boots gained traction as he weaved around the opening blow, and kept him grounded when Scorpion landed back on his feet and came around with a spinning hook kick that was deadest on taking Stryker's head off.

He ducked, and the heel of Scorpion's boot grazed the brim of his hat as he backed away.

Scorpion continued through the entire circular motion of the kick, pushing off the moment his feet hit the ground in Stryker's direction.

Stryker tucked his hand just behind his ear, folding his arm in the shape of a tight sideways V to stop a crosswise chop that was aimed at his throat. The hit actually jarred Stryker, even though he had successfully stopped it, and for a moment he wondered if Scorpion had done any damage to his arm.

The dull throbbing in his forearm didn't stop him from hooking a punch into Scorpion's gut. His gloved hand connected squarely with the man's kidney and the next overhanded swing Scorpion had been about to throw was stopped dead.

Stryker shot up his foot, smacking the ninja squarely on the mouth with the laces of his boot. The compromised position Scorpion had been put into from the kidney shot made him a prime target for a snap kick to the face.

And oh, did it feel so good.

Scorpion stumbled and Stryker went on the assault. His feet skipped across the grating as he pushed the dazed killer across the floor.

Stryker threw a pair of straight punches, both of which were redirected with an open palm and followed up by a fast whack across his biceps. Scorpion's gauntlets had considerable weight to them, and the metal clipping the exposed muscle stung like a bitch.

Muscle tissue is at its weakest when it is fully extended and tense, and Scorpion intended to take full advantage of that.

Stryker knew he wouldn't have time to draw back and punch again, so he wrapped his already outstretched hands around the back of the man's helmet and threw his knee upwards. Scorpion countered, and smashed his elbow down on Stryker's thigh when it neared its target.

Stryker's leg fell back to the ground, throbbing from the downward chop.

Scorpion tucked his arms and head inward to gather power the moment before he smashed everything upward in tandem, using both fists and helmet to take out whatever got in the way.

Unfortunately, the thing in the way happened to be Stryker's head, and the three-pronged uppercut rocked his world, sending the cop reeling back across the floor.

Scorpion roared as if he was lifting an extreme amount of weight; a deep exhale that seemed to be over exaggerated.

Scorpion charged, leading with a left-handed jab that he hoped would be the gateway into a brutal combo.

Stryker weaved out of the way, somehow anticipating the blow, and went for an uppercut of his own.

Stryker dropped his arm slightly from its position in front of his face to gather power for a brief second. He then let the fist rocket upwards toward the man's jaw.

The blow had been quick and would probably go under Scorpion's dukes if he was holding them far enough away from his face. That was the point of such a punch existing; to deliver a short-ranged blow that would sneak under your opponent's guard.

Scorpion ducked the move entirely, and continued dipping backward for a second after Stryker realized he had missed. The ninja stretched his conditioned leg muscles until his torso was almost parallel to the floor before hitting Stryker with a low roundhouse kick that slammed into the soft area below his armpit.

Again, Stryker was tensed up when he had thrown the punch, and there wasn't enough muscle or fat left to stop the kick from breaking two of his ribs.

Stryker doubled over in agony, and Scorpion didn't hesitate; swinging his arm in a circle and coming down on the back of Stryker's head with a hammerfist.

Stryker sunk even further, ears ringing, head throbbing, and fell against the wall for support.

Scorpion stood over his opponent, enjoying the confirmation that he was, in fact, the better man.

He grabbed Stryker by the collar and hauled him up so that he could look him in the eye.

_Smash!_

In his overconfidence, Scorpion had missed the cop's Maglite in its journey upward as he pulled Stryker up to face him.

The lens shattered across the specter's jaw and sent him reeling.

He did a complete spin before coming back to face the cop.

Stryker was looking defiantly back at him, bruised and bloodied from the fight, but still standing. Stryker held up the flashlight for the man to see before tossing it aside.

Stryker flashed him a weary grin and motioned for him to bring it.

Scorpion took up his fighting stance and prepared for the last engagement. Either way this went down, neither of them could sustain another volley of hits.

He came back at Stryker, feigning a fast high attack before throwing his legs forward and going for a leg takedown.

His own thighs wrapped around Stryker's, and he twisted in midair to bring the cop down face first onto the ground.

Stryker's head smacked the pavement with a sickening _crack_, and he was still.

Scorpion rose up to his full height above his victim, even more aggravated than before. He reached down and grabbed the cop by the collar; hauling the 200 pound SWAT officer back to his feet like he weighted nothing at all.

Scorpion screamed into his enemy's face before delivering a powerful body shot with his right arm. He felt something, probably another rib, crunch under the force of the blow. But he didn't care.

He released his grip and let the unconscious Stryker fall to the ground.

Scorpion took several breaths to steady himself before turning back to the guard, only now seeing that the entire platoon had gathered around to watch the fight. Most of them were stone-faced, and a few were visibly in awe.

_As they should be_, he thought.

"Take him," Scorpion ordered.

The Black Dragon operatives all milled around the Specter of the Netherrealm and detained the Earthrealm fighter. Scorpion felt even bigger when the twenty of them all cleared out of the way as he walked the opposite direction, away from the scene.

Stryker was out cold, and put up no struggle as he was taken away.

Scorpion reached into a pocket on his utility belt and retrieved a communication device that Quan Chi had gifted him. Scorpion knew not of its origins or the magic that operated it, just that he had orders to let his master know when he had captured the fighters.

The flattened stone had a comfortable weight, less than half a pound, and fit neatly into the palm of his hand. He rubbed an imperfection in the side with his thumb and waited.

The face of his master appeared before him, a holographic three dimensional head and shoulders that encompassed the flat side of the stone. The image was grainy and slightly translucent, but Scorpion wasn't complaining.

"Master," the ninja bowed his head. "Your plan worked as expected; the three fighters are now in custody and are awaiting transfer as we speak."

"Very good," the naturally distorted voice of Quan Chi sounded through the interdimensional channel. "And the others?"

"They fled the Flesh Pits with the Shaman and are probably back in Earthrealm, wondering what became of their allies," Scorpion informed him.

Quan Chi nodded in approval. "The enchantments given to the Shaman will… alter his perception of the tournament. Raiden will surely find him out, but he will slow the rest of the fighters down while we carry on with our plan."

"Very good sir," Scorpion said quietly. "And they will suspect Jade as well?"

"Certainly, my friend," Quan Chi said sincerely. "The men that I sent to, ahem, _take her prisoner_ last night are certainly dead."

The two shared a brief laugh.

"Yet, they succeeded in their purpose though; which was to tell her where they were taking her once they would have subdued her. And more importantly, that _all_ dangerous prisoners from this tournament were to be kept in the Threshold. She did not consciously betray her friends when she told them that Nightwolf would be kept here, but I doubt they will see it that way."

"And at what location are the prisoners to be kept at, sir?" Scorpion asked, turning his head to see the limp, unconscious forms of Smoke and Sonya Blade being carried away by the surviving guards in Shao Kahn's outfit. The two of them had killed over a dozen Masked Guards each before they had been apprehended by the Black Dragon operatives.

But the casualties were not Quan Chi's, and he had little concern what means had been used to achieve his goal of taking them alive. Shao Kahn could surely find Tarkatan replacements in a matter of hours, not that he knew of what had transpired here in the first place.

"Another location in Outworld, dear Scorpion. If I created a portal to take them to the Netherrealm it would attract his immediate attention. That and it would make your job of telling him that all three of them died particularly difficult," Quan Chi said casually.

"To Shao Kahn's palace then, sir?" Scorpion asked. "I'll tell him we tried to take them… but were forced to kill them in the struggle."

"Yes, but go quickly. I need you back at the tournament soon. It must be you that ensures that Kenshi is dead."

**Hi everyone! I hope you're having a good summer so far. Sorry for the delay, this chapter was particularly difficult. I wrote and rewrote it about five times before getting over my writer's block and posting this.**

**I hoped you liked the bit about Mileena, and the fact that Quan Chi is almost as smart here as he is in MK9.(Really though, I actually liked the twist ending where he planned the whole thing from the start… reminds me of Ozymandias from **_**Watchmen. **_**But too bad that there won't be any heroes left to save the world in the new MK9 cannon XD).**

**Thank you for reading. Gimme some feedback and tell me what you think.**


	25. A Crisis of Faith

Silence had engulfed the barracks. Not a word was spoken for what felt like an eternity.

Kitana and Jade sat next to each other at the dining table; the princess was sharpening a war fan to pass the time. Her eyes looked hollowed-out and worried, and the strokes of the stone across her blade grew faster and more labored as she tried to vent her stress in the quiet task.

Jade twirled her boomerang in her hand, watching absentmindedly as the green stone in the middle spun around and around. She was able to spot the little imperfections on its shiny surface as if reflected light from overhead.

Nightwolf suffered quietly in the corner of the room. He had been given proper bandages and medication for his injuries, but that was not enough to dull the ever-throbbing pain in the back of his skull. He took deep breaths and pondered things from where he sat.

Kenshi was standing vigil near the window, facing out towards the bright summer sun. He was almost completely still, taking in the light through the stained glass. He couldn't see it, but he could surely feel the heat on his face.

And I was sitting on the counter, examining the weapons I had picked up. My mind was on Stryker, Sonya, and that ninja that called himself Smoke. I was asking myself where they'd be, but I think I already knew.

Someplace ugly, probably dead because we wouldn't be able to save them. Dead or captured; I couldn't decide which would be worse. On one hand, they would probably be hypnotized into helping Shao Kahn win the tournament, maybe even reentered into the standings so that Liu Kang and Kenshi would still have to fight them.

On the other, they would be gone for good. I worried the most for Stryker, and I'm not sure why. He wasn't on my side, not since we got here. We fought for the same team, but I knew that he would take me back to America in a box once this was over.

And all of a sudden that didn't sound so bad. Funny things go through your mind when somebody's about to die.

I let my head fall forward, setting the rifle I had snagged on the counter next to me. I smelled like perspiration and sulfur from our brief excursion into Outworld. The bulletproof jacket I had been given weighed a ton, drenched in sweat from the unbearable heat of Outworld. Jesus, I didn't know how they survived out there.

Maybe that's why Kitana and Jade dressed the way they did…

I shrugged out of the black harness, desperate to get out of the suffocating Kevlar. It wasn't that hot here, but my whole body was still sweating, and I wanted it to stop.

I undid the pair of clasps that hooked the harness into my belt before lifting the whole thing over my head and throwing it onto the counter next to me.

Jade about jumped out of her seat and Kenshi's hand slid down to his weapon, ready for action. After an uncomfortable pause, they both relaxed.

"Restless?" Kenshi asked, turning to me. He had this uncanny way of confirming the exact location of everyone in the room without being able to see them. And, from there, being able to discern who was who just by relying on his other senses. I realized that he might not even know what I had dropped, just that I was the one to drop it.

I nodded solemnly. "Aren't you?"

"Yes," he said slowly. "But we must have patience. Lord Raiden will return soon so he can reopen the portal from our end. Or he had better, anyway."

And he did.

Raiden, flanked by Kung Lao and Liu Kang, came charging into the barracks not five minutes later. Raiden's chiseled, weathered face held little expression, and his glowing eyes intensified as he looked around the room as if the three fighters we had lost were somewhere in the building.

The two Shaolin were also deeply worried.

"What in the name of the Gods happened?" Raiden demanded, looking frantically back and forth between all of us as his second in command, now a very distressed Liu Kang, had no idea what had happened.

Johnny jogged through the door after them, out of breath and sweating.

"They didn't make it back," Kenshi said simply, turning back to the window and facing the warm sunlight. "They found Nightwolf at the Flesh Pits for some reason, guarded by Kano's men. No Mileena, no Shang Tsung, just Nightwolf.

"And since apparently we can't activate the damn portal without your help, there's no way to get to them," I said pointedly, tucking the pistol into my waistband and folding my arms in front of me. I gave Raiden an exasperated, bitter glare for several seconds before turning back to the rifle on the counter next to me.

"Wait," Kung Lao interrupted, holding up a hand. "You three were in Outworld, the Flesh Pits, and you came back even after realizing your companions were walking into a trap!"

"Kung Lao, if we had set out for the Threshold, we would still be en route by now. And then none of us would have made it back at all," Kitana said in a soft voice that walked the line between impatience and calmness. She was upset, but couldn't afford to make her displeasure known to the others. She held up a hand as she spoke, trying to the young monk's anger before he lost his ability to reason.

"You should have done something!" Liu Kang said through gritted teeth, turning away from where I was sitting and whispering something under his breath before continuing. "If this had been planned out better, we wouldn't have this problem right now."

_Oh, really? You were just fine with this plan when we started Liu; funny how you chose to voice your fears and reservations after everything went south._

_None of this is_ his fault, I told myself as I clenched one of my hands into a tight fist and held it against my lips. I almost yelled at him for a second there, damn near lost it in front of everyone.

_Liu had almost nothing to do with the rescue operation. This is just him venting._

"Okay, true," I admitted. "But we didn't have enough information going in to anticipate these sorts of switch-ups. I've got enough guns, we might be able to go back and find them-"

"Enough," Raiden said in a surprisingly collected tone. "We are down three more fighters, and Nightwolf needs rest… This is unprecedented, unacceptable. I should not have sent them in alone… sent them to the Threshold… alone."

His pronounced bass tones dropped into unintelligible mumbling as he thought things over, dipping his head as if in prayer.

"I need time to think over this matter. Liu Kang is still in the standings, so we're not finished yet. Take heart, I will find a way to save them. I promise you, all of you, I'll bring them home," he spoke softly and very much in despair; with each syllable sounding slightly more weary and downtrodden that the one before it. His conical hat hid his expression from the rest of us, but I was pretty sure he was on the verge of tears.

Those perfect, cream-colored robes adorned with mystical symbols covered almost his entire body. The intense, eye-popping bright blue waistcoat fixed over his robes with a leather belt gave him the appearance of an unstoppable physical god, as he very much was. His boots were untarnished, and straw hat perfectly perched atop his head.

But now, as the very _human_ feelings of anger, disbelief, and fear washed over him, he appeared very mortal. It took me this long, my friends captured or worse in a totally different dimension, to realize that he was not perfect. To discover that the steely resolve and imposing figure he cut were only vanity.

Underneath all that, he was much more human than he cared to admit.

And so he left, taking quick steps out of the room to hide his true feelings from the rest of us.

He left us there to contemplate, to brood, and to once again sit in silence.

MKMKMK

Stress. It seems to fade in and out like a night full of dreams; manifesting itself in a manner that I notice and remember only once in a while.

Back in Outworld, during the assault, stress was just another thing; just another one of the items pushed to the back of my mind during combat. I didn't really think about it, or fatigue, or the chronic soreness and stiff muscles that I had been experiencing lately.

But now, after a mission that felt more like failure than anything else, all of the hurt came cascading back over me like a tidal wave of dull, throbbing discomfort.

I let my legs give out from under me so I could slide down to the floor of the shower. The slippery wall behind me propped up my back while hot water washed over me.

Ouch. My legs. They hurt the most.

I think I pulled something running earlier. Maybe being wired and tense earlier made me more fragile. I had pulled my muscles taunt without knowing better, and now something in my right thigh was paying the price for it.

My back was a close second. Something about landing at the bottom of a cliff without anything to break your fall will really do the trick. I didn't believe Quan Chi when he told me he had fixed everything, and it really sucks that I was right.

Then came everything else, which was more of that dull, achy feeling all over that wasn't too bad in comparison. I had taken some Tylenol earlier, and it made everything a fraction more bearable.

But only a fraction.

I hung my head, trying to separate my mind from my body the way Liu Kang does. I let everything loosen up just a bit, and gave the tight nerves and tendons some slack for the first time in a while.

I could only imagine how Stryker and the others are feeling right now. Probably locked up, or mind-slaves, or another horrendous fate that was something out of a _Lord of the Rings_ movie.

See, if the future gets grim enough, then you start to waste the present looking at the past.

You start remembering back to how you got here, how all of this happened.

I soon snapped out of my timeless daze. Suddenly I decided that it was time for me to get dressed.

Somebody used all the hot water.

MKMKMK

I found something relaxing in donning my comfortably-loose outfit. I gave myself an extra notch of slack from my belt and left my outer shirt unbuttoned. I also left my shoes and socks just inside the door and decided to spend the rest of the evening barefoot.

I took a last look in the mirror and grinned: I really think I hit the _relaxation mode _vibe that I was going for. Apart from the pistol I had tucked on one side of my waistband and the collapsible baton stuck very loosely in the other, I looked like I was on vacation.

I fell into the cozy chair next to the bed and leaned back, thinking about our next move.

I didn't have enough energy to jump when I heard a knock at the door. I lackadaisically turned my head to the source of the noise, decided that I was not in immediate danger, and proceeded to get out of my chair.

Literally, this is currently the level I am operating at. I have just enough adrenaline and natural focus left to curl my fingers around the grip of the gun and move to the side of the door when I answer it, but not enough to properly address a threat if one was waiting for me.

"And this is?" I asked, sliding the pistol upward until the trigger guard was free of the fabric of my pants.

"It's Jade."

I let the weapon fall back into its place in my pants and yanked open the door enough for her to see my face but not enough for her to enter yet.

"Yeah, what's the word?" I asked, rubbing my eyes.

"Nothing from Raiden or Liu Kang yet," she informed me, voice somewhat muffled behind her green mask. "I think we're going to wait until morning to come up with a plan of attack."

"But we don't _have_ until morning," I insisted. "Where I come from, if somebody gets taken or captured, they have about a day before they end up buried in the woods."

"I feel bad for where you come from," she said bluntly. "But there's nothing we can do. My contacts informed me that the Threshold is locked down for the night by Shao Kahn's best and Kano's Black Dragon. Nigh impenetrable without an army."

"Or possibly nigh _very_ penetrable a very talented group of, young, dedicated individuals who are being backed by a thunder god. Don't know where we would find a team of those though…"

"This is not up for discussion right now," she said firmly. "We're all exhausted, and attacking tonight would get even more of us captured or dead."

"So why are you here again?" I asked, again rubbing my eyes. I knew that her culture might be different, but if you come to the door of somebody you don't really know at night, there's generally a pressing issued at hand.

"To make sure Kitana didn't leave any of her things in here," she said in a strangely cool voice. "I heard she spent the night here, is that correct?"

_How the hell… well, they are best friends._

"Nothing happened!" I practically shouted it.

"That's the only reason you are still alive," Jade said in a near whisper, leaning in close and staring at me with her furious green eyes.

"If you had goaded Kitana into inappropriate behavior for your own satisfaction," she threatened in a voice that made the hair on my arms stand up. "Then you would most certainly be not in one place right now, but _many_."

I was speechless as she crossed her arms in front of her, leaning against the doorway. I had backed up several feet, giving her a wide berth.

"Whoa, I… look, I had no intention of any of… that. Me and Kitana just talked and… I don't know where you would have gotten that idea from, Jade," I stumbled through my words, jumbling several incomplete thoughts into one barely cohesive sentence.

"Oh, just making sure, that's all. When I sense Kitana is in danger or about to do something stupid, my reaction may be a little… out of proportion to the situation. Get ahead of myself, so to speak, get a little carried away in my work."

She took several steps toward me. I have about three inches and probably at least 30 pounds on her, but right now she was somehow looming over me.

"Totally," I blurted, nodding and searching the room for improvised weapons I could use to defend myself. "Yep, got it."

She turned to leave but stopped. "I'm glad we've agreed on this matter so quickly. There was one man who attempted to surprise Kitana and do something awful… it took me _hours_, Maxwell.

"Anyway, sleep tight young man. I'll be seeing you in the morning."

On that happy note she was swiftly out the door and halfway down the hall, leaving me standing in the doorway like a fool. I thought I heard a giggle under her breath as she glided back down the hallway to her own room. I wasn't certain if she had intended it as a type of joke, or if she had been completely serious.

One thing was for damn certain; tonight I would be sleeping alone. No questions asked.

I wonder if handholding is also off-limits…

MKMKMK

"Quite an experience to be in despair, isn't it?"

Raiden turned slowly to see Liu Kang and Kenshi approaching from inside the barracks. Kenshi, as per usual, wore almost no expression.

But Liu Kang looked a thousand emotions at once on his young face. His eyes suddenly appeared weary, and the energy behind them seemed to have disappeared over the course of a few hours.

Kenshi leaned against the balcony railing and folded his arms, facing Raiden as he pondered his question. Raiden did not answer, but merely shook his head.

"That is what it means to be alive. You might have to get low, really low, sometimes before you can regain your courage," Kenshi finished.

"Do you know what is like to be tasked with the protection of an entire realm?" Raiden demanded. "Do you know how difficult it was getting this far? There have been sacrifices… I fear I may have already given up too much."

"Are you willing to forfeit humanity's existence because of those choices?" Liu Kang asked, suddenly challenging his master. "We fight Shao Kahn or die trying, those are the options."

"I…" Raiden was suddenly at a loss for words. "I'm sorry, Liu Kang. I've bet everything on you, ever since the beginning. And that's not fair to you… or to you, Kenshi."

Kenshi and Liu Kang were shocked. A god had apologized to _them_!

"I've expected much more than I should from everyone, especially you two. I sent almost all our fighters away on a wild goose chase that never should have taken place. It is my fault that those three are now captured," Raiden lamented. "I just tried so hard… I want to win this tournament more than I've wanted anything in my life."

"So let's make it right," Liu Kang said with a hint of a grin. He gave Raiden a pat on the shoulder. "I think that Kenshi and I can handle things here. Max and the Edenians are out of the tournament already, so let them stage their assault on Outworld tomorrow. I believe they can find Stryker's team… or make a grand mess of Shao Kahn's palace trying."

Raiden stood up to his full height, reinvigorated and ready for action. "Yes, we start the attack at sunrise. The end of this tournament is near, and I intend to see the sun set tomorrow on a free Earthrealm."

**Hey everyone! Next chapter will be the beginning of the end for the story. It might be shorter, but it will be coming to you all very soon.**

**Thank you for reading, please gimme some feedback and leave a review, much appreciated.**

**Until next time, Peace.**


	26. Gods and Men

Shang Tsung sat in silence, but he was not alone.

The souls of those he had conquered floated about, manifesting themselves in fleeting green orbs that faded in and out of sight around him. If they were a hurricane, his body was no doubt the eye; standing still in the face of an awesome spectacle.

Ermac would be in awe of the number of spirits bound to the conjurer known as Shang Tsung. A maelstrom was all around him; the only source of light in the dark, windowless chamber.

The other souls helped him. Gave him focus. He was wise beyond any of the fighters, that he knew, but to see and experience the memories and knowledge fallen warriors had to offer was… exhilarating to say the least.

Much he had learned from each one. With every soul he took, he assimilated the knowledge into his subconscious by forever bonding their aura to his. In layman's terms; he sifted through their thoughts, memories, dreams, and much more. He took what he wanted and left the rest for later.

Some were content with their destiny, having seen that death in battle was the only glorious was to go. But still others _tugged_ and _shook_ at their binds, desperate to get free. They tried to tear themselves away from Shang Tsung, the Emissary of Outworld, and become free.

But none had ever escaped. He was far too careful to let that happen.

He didn't need the insight of a thousand souls to tell him that Mileena approached. He could keep track of his creations well, and sensed her presence in his chamber. She was somewhere close behind him, within a few meters no doubt.

He nodded silently in approval. Her steps made almost no sound on the floor constructed to deliberately amplify sounds. He had trained her well, almost too well…

But if only she could have spent more time on the operating table before being given free will. He had several mind-altering agents that had yet to be administered, and he had no way to inject her without her knowing.

For now, he would have to keep the child in line until he could come up with a long-term solution.

"Mileena," he rasped quietly, still choosing to face away from her. "What troubles you?"

"Questions," Mileena offered in a soft, sweet voice. She sounded like she was on the brink of tears. "Mileena wants answers to her questions."

Shang Tsung sighed and took a sip of his tea before setting the cup down on his plate harder than he normally would have. He didn't have time for interruptions.

"And what, pray tell, would your questions be, child?" he asked through gritted, yellowing teeth.

"Who made you?" Mileena asked.

"What do you mean, Princess? Normal people aren't made, but born from a mother, who has been impregnated by a father. We have-"

"No," she said in a darkly ambiguous voice. "Whose image were you created in… and why?"

"The Elder Gods," Shang Tsung answered confidently. "They watch over all of us from Heaven. Your father resents them for their rules, and Raiden is a god himself. I personally believe the Elder Gods to be creatures that should command awe from all souls in the universe. They allow us to perform magic… to reengineer life. They are responsible for the magic that allowed me to create you. It is truly amazing when you think about it.

"And me? I was created because they willed me into existence. Because they must have a great plan for me, and they must know I have great plans myself."

Shang Tsung reveled in the fact that he was created with divine purpose… and that he would someday rule over all men.

"So why did you make me?" Mileena asked quizzically.

His expression soured.

"You were grown because Shao Kahn demanded it. You are a true daughter to him, a… spiritual replacement for Kitana. The idea, the handiwork behind your creation, is what matters."

"So I was made to prove a point?"

"No," Shang Tsung answered sharply. "You were made because I grew you in a damned tank, and because I wanted to prove to Shao Kahn that I am a worthy sorcerer. You are but a token of appreciation, girl. I am sorry, but I wish to be perfectly candid, and while in my house I will speak as I please."

Mileena was silent for several seconds.

"If you could only imagine how disappointed you would be if _you_ received that same answer from your creator."

Shang Tsung let the tornado of souls dissipate as he let out a massive breath, trying to contain his anger.

"What are you questioning tonight, Mileena: My faith or your own existence? The former is my damn business, and the latter is for you to decide."

"Faith," Mileena giggled like a demented little girl. "Those books you imprinted me with… faith sounds a lot more like slavery than a path to salvation."

"Faith is what separates men from Gods: Men need to have faith in higher powers, and Elder Gods have complete faith in themselves," Shang Tsung said back, trying to navigate his way back to her intentions. She was here for a greater reason, and was probably just toying with him.

"Listen, Mileena-"

He was cut off by one of her delicate hands resting on his robes. He froze, unsure of her intentions for the briefest of moments.

He heard a short grunt, a fast exhale, from behind him as she rammed a Sai into his back. The blade cut through the muscle below his shoulders like a hot knife through butter, and burned him as it went.

He gasped, watching as the pointed tip of the weapon tunneled its way out of his ribcage and stuck out the front of his chest. He didn't feel any pain yet, and he was frozen in shock.

"WHAT IS THIS?" he screamed. Blood welled in his throat, and he nearly gagged as the hot red began to choke out his breathing. That blade had punctured something, probably a lung.

Mileena leaned in close, resting her small chin on his shoulder. She brushed her hair back behind her ear and whispered to him:

"If only you knew what it was like to be made imperfect, Shang Tsung… to fail before you were ever born. If only you knew how Mileena felt… you would no doubt drive this dagger through your back by yourself," she said in a sweetly seductive voice.

She wrenched the sai violently with a clockwise turn of her wrist, giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder as he sank further on his knees.

"Like you said, Gods have complete faith in themselves; they decide their own destinies through nothing but willpower. You chose to kneel before your Gods, the ones that sit in heaven…"

She paused, turning her head to the side and withdrawing the sai with a quick pull of her muscular arm.

"And I have decided to _kill_ mine: The ones that now reside in Earthrealm. There is but one more to go, and I must apologize for my early departure, but Mileena has work to do. Princess Kitana is owed a visit. Good day, Sorcerer," she said in a completely neutral voice.

Mileena spun the sai in her hands before returning it to its sheath and setting a brisk pace for the door.

**Sufficiently creeped out? XD Thank you for reading this short little chapter. It was originally going to be a segment of the longer ending chapters but I wanted to give everyone something to read sooner rather than later. So stay tuned, and let me know what you think of Mileena, and the direction I went with her character.**

**Also: Please take note of the part where Shang Tsung notes that she is unpredictable due to early removal from the final stages of her surgery. With the end of the tournament and several incursions by the heroes underway, Shao Kahn woke her up early... for whatever good it will do.**


	27. Desperation

Remorseless. Kurtis Stryker now pondered the word subconsciously. _To be without hesitation or pity, to pursue doggedly, and with insatiable hunger._

_Funny_, he thought. _Never appreciated just how ugly the connotations of that word were._

The thought quickly disappeared as his head suffered another blow from a tarkatan captain. The humanoid's hard, bony knuckles pounded into his skull like the head of a hammer. His ears rang again and a dastardly fog fell over his vision.

Stryker's head rocked to the side and a loose gob of blood hit the edge of the stone slab he had been tied to. The pattern of dark, deep-looking red spatter marks on the flat surface reminded Stryker of a crime scene. How many times had he taken a punch like that?

He couldn't remember. The shitty thing about being captured and knocked out immediately afterward was having no way to tell how long he had been a prisoner of the enemy.

Stryker shivered violently against the freezing surface of the rock, standing up the hair on his arms and neck. Even worse were the rusted chains and locks that secured him in a standing position, so that there would be no way the freak would miss a punch.

Stryker gasped for air and moaned as several beads of blood and drool ran down his chin.

Curses echoed through his mind, condemning the tarkatan soldier in the name of everything he could think of. He thought he whispered one out loud one time, but that was just a gasp. A mere gasp or groan was the closest he had come to speaking a word to the man.

He didn't give the tarkatan anything: no names, no dates or any other information, no matter how unimportant it may actually have been.

Can't talk. You start talking, you can't stop talking. Best to just keep your trap shut.

_All alone in a dungeon somewhere with a psychopathic monster. All of Raiden's fighters preparing and running around on the surface of Earthrealm… while I suffer in the dark._

The tarkatan, looking something between _Jaws_ and a pissed off Xenomorph from _Alien_ with a wrinkled face, leaned in close. He had something to say. Something important.

"You tell me your procedure for emergency response and rapid deployment in New York," the tarkatan repeated the order yet again. It had been no doubt scripted by someone with a much more streamlined thought process. The tarkatan garbled the words like a synthesizer; putting emphasis on all the wrong syllables. Had Scorpion given him that question to ask him, or had Quan Chi?

Did it matter? Why was he still holding out at all?

Right now was high time for a rescue. In the movies, this was when his friends would come charging in; breaking down the door and killing all the guards before leaving with their battered friend in tow.

But he didn't sense any immediate relief coming in a timely fashion. So he decided that he would find a way out of this mess, or die trying…

But hopefully succeed.

Stryker remembered his training.

Metal deteriorates faster than you'd like to think: take a guy who has had survival and escape training, put him in cuffs, and throw him in a hole for a couple of days. You would be surprised to find out that he has significantly weakened the bonds, maybe severed your top-of-the-line cuffs, and possibly even sharpened the broken ends to stab you with when you come in to check on him. It isn't about pressure so much as it is about proper leverage…

Bits of the speech a survival and evasion specialist had given him years earlier faded in and out of focus, with varying levels of volume. He could break these cuffs. All he needed was the proper method.

Stryker rolled his wrists forward at a ruthless tempo as he tugged at his bonds. The chains were rusted, jagged-edged, and probably nowhere near coming free. But still he worked the rotting metal, feeling the stinging pain of the iron biting his skin with every motion of his hand.

Beads of blood snaked down his hand and dripped off from his fingers like a leaky faucet. The red was coming more frequently now, and Stryker wondered how much more he could do before tearing the little muscles in his forearm and puncturing an artery.

He let himself drown out the tarkatan man's garbled speech by immersing his mind into the task once again. Stryker only then realized that he had stopped and started trying against his restraints no less than half a dozen times, each more painful than the last.

_Reality is becoming a pretty malleable concept. Gotta get free… no matter what I have to sacrifice. No matter how painful, I have to keep going… if only because no one expects me to._

_Defy the odds,_ he thought again, nodding silently at the idea. _Change the world… kill this asshole, more like._

He continued wearing away at his binds; speeding up the decay of the rusted chains by grinding them together at a furious pace.

The tarkatan stepped back and let loose a roundhouse kick, his entire lower leg becoming a blur the moment before it connected with Stryker's bruised ribcage.

Kurtis Stryker screamed like a wounded animal. Dynamite had gone off in his lungs. A thousand daggers and a fully-loaded double decker bus had been jammed into his side; then they remained pressing on him long after the foot had been withdrawn. It lashed him with every breath he took in, and to not breathe quickly was to suffocate in this humid, unbearable hell.

The pain was unreal, _disproportionate_ to the actual force of the blow. He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to imagine the damage that had already been done.

He just wanted _out_. _Now_.

The tarkatan interrogator leaned in close, showing off his hideous set of shark teeth. Stryker smelled something awful on his breath, and he tried not to think about that either.

"I'll ask you one more time, human. If you don't talk soon, I am going to have to get really _nasty_. Do you want that?"

Stryker simply glared back at him.

"Now, what are-"

Stryker let out a wild yell. All caution was unceremoniously tossed to the wind; all attempts at remaining psychologically strong or mentally fortified went out the damn window.

All that pain… now it meant nothing. All the hurt and the blood… and suddenly he felt none of it.

He felt only the primal urge that many humans have forgotten. That survival instinct that mattered more than anything else. He had forgotten just how raw, and how powerful, it could be.

He pulled against the metal braces holding him. No, he really pulled against it. Not like he was simply resisting capture or struggling in vain, but with all his might and then some because he _knew_ he was going to get free. He knew it and believed it with every fiber of his damaged being, and embraced that with such certainty that he was willing to risk pulling his own arms off just to stay alive.

Stryker felt the rusted-out metal begin to give way as every muscle in his body willed against the cold chains.

_The soulless stuff… it didn't have the spirit to survive. Didn't have the spirit to hold a desperate man._

The tarkatan folded his arms and laughed at his efforts, but Stryker couldn't even see it because he was trying so hard against his chains.

He felt the bolts that had long ago been driven through the cement begin to loosen, and watched in agony as centimeter by centimeter of the steel rods was exposed until…

CHING! CHING!

And he came free all at once like a caged animal, taken from the wild of living free, willing to risk life itself just to stay out from under the heel of oppression.

His mind didn't register the fact that the man had been laughing at him, or the fact that he had flown headlong into him and sent them both crashing into the door, until he was already on the ground.

Stryker felt the heat of the man's breath as he cursed Stryker and bit at his face. But this New York cop wouldn't be stopped now.

He grabbed the tarkatan by the throat and held him back against the door, pressing upward and trying to drive him into the steel.

Stryker then turned and threw the man into the slab that he had been chained to. Not a judo throw, nothing out of a martial arts system, just a wild swing of his arm as he brought his captor's face into the rock.

Stryker clasped both of his hands around the humanoid's head, one below the jaw and the other around his hairless scalp, and pulled the stunned tarkatan forward for an instant before slamming his head back into the granite.

He pulverized the beast's cranium as he repeatedly smashed the man's messed up face into the rock. Again and again and again he pulled backward on the tarkatan's head before giving a quick, hard shove forward.

The man got to know the rock Stryker had been chained to almost as well as he had, making eye contact with it each time his head made that funny splat noise.

Stryker wanted to burn down a thousand villages of his kind. He wanted to destroy mountains and lakes and all the beautiful things that he and his race had claimed in Outworld. He wanted to spit on the man's flag, destroy his home, and much worse.

That insatiable rage burned in him, but only for that moment.

He snapped out of his destructive trance and let the man, who was now dead and disfigured beyond recognition, crumple to the floor softly. No struggle, no more fight.

Having your skull crushed has that effect on people.

Stryker stepped back until he hit the cell door. His feet gave way and he slumped down to the ground, very much tired and in pain.

He had won, but he wasn't nearly finished.

MKMKMK

Everything was holding its breath; tense and waiting for the end to arrive.

The air pressure on the island was the lowest since I had been here, and the day was overcast with storm clouds brewing on the horizon. A cool 60-some degrees, with a light breeze that felt amazing on my bare chest.

The sun was not yet up. Rays of blue and purple light shone as it made its slow climb up the horizon. Another hour of two, maybe. Even then I think the storm clouds would blot it out, which was fine with me. I enjoyed the overcast, no need to squint.

I curled my hands around the balcony railing, leaning forward and looking down at the forest that covered the entire island. I could picture it burning in the coming conflict, the entire land mass ablaze in the fire of kombat.

The perpetual hurt in my lower back promised not to subside before we went out for the final fight. It was a dull, unbearable ache now. I could take pills, but the pills would only take me so far. I was careful around painkillers, especially around the ones that made me feel too good. I was told that I had an addictive personality, and it would take almost nothing to get me hooked on something awful.

I gently rubbed the spot at the base of my spine, which was still bruised and almost the size of a dinner plate, and remembered how lucky I was to be alive at all.

_I wonder if he'll be there_, I thought dreamily. _I want to see the look on his face once he realizes I'm not dead._

Ermac, a thousand souls in one body. A brutal son of a bitch. I wonder if he even felt pain, or if he knew what getting hit across the mouth was like.

I didn't know, but I would sure like to find out.

I took in slow, steady breaths. My toes curled themselves into fists on the floor as I waited for the marching order to come. Best to stay relaxed and keep my heart rate low until it came time to fight. Any stressful sort of activity before that would only increase my chance of getting injured.

"Someone is awake early," a woman's voice cooed from behind me. I half-jumped as the familiar tone jarred me from my thoughts.

I turned around slowly, already knowing who it was. I grinned as she came into focus.

_Kitana. What was she doing here?_

"How did you get in here so quietly?" I asked playfully. "Did you WD40 the hinges on the door or something?"

"I don't even know what that means, I just picked the lock and walked in," she said casually, shrugging and stepping out onto the balcony. "Had the opportunity to knock, but I didn't want to intrude on your brooding."

I shook my head, managing a laugh. "Thanks… I think."

"Do not mention it," she said slowly, over-punctuating the human expression to make sure she got it right. "You are not the only one with a lot on your mind."

"I'll bet," I nodded as she leaned on the balcony next to me. "You have given up a lot more for this than anyone else has, Kitana. A lot of sacrifice…"

"A lot of discovery and betrayal," she lamented. "They even tried to frame Jade for the capture of our men. Shang Tsung's guards made it clear to her that she would be going to the same place if captured, just so that she would be the one to suggest it to us. I think he wanted us to kill her."

"Good catch on that one, how are you holding up?"

"I am fine, ready for action," she said, holding up her wounded arm, which now looked a lot better and was not wrapped in a bandage. "Ready to find that _Mileena_ creature."

"Just be careful, she sounds dangerous. No telling what Shang Tsung did to her in the Flesh Pits."

"I can handle myself," she insisted. "_You_ be careful, we can't lose any more fighters."

I thought about putting a hand on her shoulder. I lifted my right hand off of the balcony and was about to drape it across her back when I remembered that we barely knew each other. I had only ever touched her twice; a few times when we beat the hell out of each other in the fight and once when we embraced, but that was nothing.

Aw shit, I'm not that brave with women. Never was.

So I awkwardly faked like I was stretching and put the hand back down. I lifted the other one to do a similar move to try and make like I wasn't a wuss.

She punched me in the arm, smiling and shaking her head. "Do I intimidate you?"

"No!" I insisted defiantly. _I just don't know you and Jade scared the shit out of me… and I have a horrible history with relationships._

"Well there's something I want you to know… but I think I want to tell you later on, after the fight," she teased.

"What? We might not make it, you should play it safe and just spill it," I advised, trying to hide the fact that I was hanging on her every word.

"Nah, you can wait. It can wait until it's over," she said.

"Yeah, well… maybe there's some sh-stuff I need to tell you too," I shot back. "But it can wait too I guess."

"I'm sure," she giggled. She laughed at my foolish joke, and I laughed too.

Kitana started to walk away.

"Wait," I said suddenly. She stopped and turned around.

"I'll tell you the important stuff afterward," I assured her. "But just in case something happens, I'm glad that I met you."

"Me too," she said softly. "And thank you… for making me laugh."

I turned away as she walked out the door. When I heard the door pull shut I leaned over the railing, hanging my head over the edge.

I haven't cried in a long time, haven't felt the urge to. But now I had to fight just to hold back the waterworks.

"Alright," I whispered, shaking my head. "Time to go to work."

MKMKMK

We gathered around in the dining hall; those of us that were left. Raiden stood with his back to the stained glass windows, facing his remaining fighters.

Jade and Kitana were on his left, almost flanking him as they sharpened their weapons. Johnny Cage and Nightwolf were side by side in the center; the movie star with his arms folded and the shaman mouthing a silent prayer. Kenshi was leaned up against the wall, expressionless and listening.

And I was somewhere in between, waiting for the word. I felt something brush my shoulder and turned to see Liu Kang standing next to me, Kung Lao in tow. He nodded at me, and I returned the gesture.

Raiden cleared his throat.

"You all know why you're here, you know what the stakes are. I don't need to tell you how desperate our mission is, or how dangerous our opponents are. I don't need to explain what failure here means; for us and our world.

"But I do need to tell you how proud I am… of all of you. So many great fighters standing before me, choosing to face the dark forces together instead of apart, is a spectacle of awesome proportions. I have longed to see a miracle in this tournament, and I cannot believe that I have neglected to witness your courage and strength, your hard work, and your commitment thus far.

"We stand here today, combat specialists of the highest order, to fight a battle no others can. We fight for our future, for our survival, and nothing else. None else matters now, only the coming conflict, and the glory that awaits all of you who follow me into battle.

"This island with no name, this secluded patch of earth in a mighty sea, is completely isolated from the rest of our world. No one knows what happened here, but they soon will. They will sing songs and tell tales of your bravery and might. You will become legendary, immortal. Some men chose to revel in their time, but you will be revered for all time.

"Make me proud, continue to do the impossible, and sent Shang Tsung's fighters back to the barren wastes of Outworld!"

We all gave a war cry, shaking the building with the chorus of warrior shouts. I threw my arms up in the air as I bellowed to the heavens, amped up and ready for combat.

Raiden gave us a small smile and stepped forward. We parted so that he could go first, so that he could lead us to the battleground. And lead us there he did.

The ominous cloud from earlier cover beat the sun to the top of the sky, looming overhead and making a charge for the island. The thunder was only the volume of a quiet footstep, and the flashes like poorly-constructed fireworks for now.

But they were getting louder, fast.

And so was the pounding of our footfalls on the uneven pavement. Our steps grew from our normally quiet shuffles and short paces to a booming, remorseless march to the battleground. I let my arms swing and walked with a self-confident swagger alongside my allies.

Less than a dozen fighters left to fight the final battle. So few to decide the fate of so very many.

The rest of the human race and I were not quite on speaking terms quite yet, and now I felt ready to die for them. All of them. Die for the people who had cast me out into the cold, who had forced me to backpack around the world for years while I tried to survive… suddenly the idea of giving it all for the cause sounded like the only reasonable thing to do, not just something heroic.

All of a sudden the fact that the world needed saving was more like an invitation than something to run away from. More than just something to ignore or leave in the dust as I walked on. It meant more now than ever before, whether or not I was the hero humanity needed, I would be there, fighting for my people.

A few scattered leaves blew about in circles as the sky faded from a pre-sunrise blue to a dark grey. The storm clouds hovered overhead, staring down at the battleground. Everything was teetering on the edge of victory… or annihilation.

Earthrealm's fate hung in the balance, staring down into the hell of being occupied by Outworld. And we were the last thread sustaining life as we knew it. Seven fighters for all humanity… what a slender thread.

The world greyed out, and the color scheme of nature seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation. Would its color be appreciated by mortal eyes again, or would it become ash under Shao Kahn's rule?

Dark thunderclouds, getting closer. I took one last glance out of the corner of my eye, a final look at what I had since failed to appreciate, before setting my gaze forward at our destination and nothing else.

We made haste on our way up the wide stairs leading to the arena.

Raiden stepped forward, crackling with the power of a thousand storms. He seemed to grow in stature as he approached the doors, drawing strength in knowing that there was no holding back here. Whatever happened, there was no reason to play nicely, no reason to show any more mercy.

And I think I liked that.

Raiden gave a yell and a lightning bolt materialized in his hands. I held up a hand and looked away from the blinding light, surprised by the sudden show of power.

He stepped forward and slammed the controlled energy into the doors ahead.

Whatever the doors were made of before, they were blown apart like loose paper mâché by the lightning bolt. Shrapnel flew outward in all directions except ours, showering whoever was inside with a million pieces of wood and stone.

Raiden didn't break stride, continuing through like it was nothing at all. To him, it probably was just a warm up.

The looks on the faces of those Outworld pricks standing inside was priceless.

Scorpion and Quan Chi were no longer standing comfortably in their place beside the Sorcerer's throne; both were on their feet, Scorpion in a traditional ninjitsu fighting stance and his master with his hands on his hips, gasping in disbelief.

Kano was standing beside a furious Cyrax and a bandaged Reptile, all three either with hands on their primary weapons or up and curled into tight fists, ready for kombat.

Baraka flanked them, blades out and looking like he wanted to kill everything in sight. His shoulders were full of tension, and I didn't blame him for being cautious.

And Ermac was there too, just like I knew he would be. He wore no expression, and didn't appear to even be fazed at our sudden arrival. His green eyes glowed passively as he watched us approach, and I'll bet he was aware that my own eyes were trained directly on him.

And one scantily-clad young woman who had her back to all of us. She stood in the center of the ragtag outfit, directly in front of the throne that Shang Tsung usually parked his old ass in when we were around. Where was that old bastard anyway, and who was the new addition?

Her outfit reminded me of Kitana's getup, only tighter and more revealing, with the spandex-like fabric doing its best to point out every natural curve and bend in her body.

The toned muscles on her back rippled as she rolled her shoulders and turned to face us.

This woman was also masked with a single piece of cloth that covered her entire jawline, a painfully-conspicuous shade of bright pink. Her catlike, yellow eyes were each pierced by a black slit that was her pupil right in the center. They grew in size like that of a cat as she watched us approach, wide with curiosity and morbid excitement.

She looked insecure, holding her hands like she didn't know what to do with them, and taking slow steps as she walked forward to address us.

"Quite the… entrance," the woman said in a ponderous, creepy voice. "Are you ready to begin?"

**Hey, thank you all for giving me feedback and following the story so far. The latest is up… and I tried to give Stryker the proper amount of desperation someone with his skills in that situation would have. Please let me know how I did, and more is yet to come…**


	28. Melee

Smoke's eyes snapped open at the sound of footsteps outside the door. By his estimate, he had been out cold for something in the realm of 12 hours. It was only a guess, but the fact that the soreness from the previous day had begun to set in, and that his legs were asleep, meant he could not be far from the truth.

_Eliminate the impossible, and, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth._

The assassin remembered reading Sherlock Holmes stories as a child. They taught him how to reason through situations, and he could remember almost any notable quote from any of the great detective's mysterious cases, not that this skill could in any way be useful now.

Now he silently wished for his entire body to be numb and void of feeling. It ached, it was worn out, and his high level of mental discipline he had attained did little to spare him the agony of defeat.

_What was worse, the toll on your body when you are beaten, or the fact that you were bested by another?_

The Grandmaster would beat him within an inch of his life just for pondering the question. Lin Kuei were _never_ defeated in battle. If they were, death would come by a mercy kill from their better man, or a suicide to atone for their sins.

Smoke thought back to the other fighters at this tournament. The American was presumed dead after a brawl with Ermac, yet he dared to come back. Kitana and Jade were defeated, but still they breathed.

In fact the only two remaining warriors were Kenshi and Liu Kang. They had not dishonored themselves by being defeated, but then again the worst was yet to come for them in the final round.

Smoke took a surprisingly laid-back approach to getting beaten, at least when it came to a companion of his getting bested. They did not follow his strict and rigorous lifestyle, and they therefor were not bound by the same code of honor that he was. So defeat might not be so bitter, or so humiliating, for them as it was for Smoke himself.

Smoke winced as he shifted his weight from side to side, feeling the soreness and the ache of the day after getting pummeled by several dozen guards and Black Dragon.

But he had been in worse scrapes in his time. Whenever Lin Kuei were not training in new tactics or on assignment, the Grandmaster made a habit of pitting them against each other. It had always been Smoke against Kuai Liang, ever since they were very young. They had stolen each other's food, sabotaged equipment, and worse to prove themselves worthy of recognition.

But the rivalry that should have driven them apart in fact made them very close friends. Not the type of friends that talked about personal feelings or held intellectual conversations.

But the ones who had saved each other so many times they had a running tally of favors and close saves because of their team work. The friends who had trained together, fought together, and were prepared to die for each other in a moment's notice. They were warriors, kombat practitioners of the highest order.

He now wondered if his fellow fighter would even bother saving him now. He had been disgraced, and there was no coming back from that.

Smoke let the thoughts fall out of focus as the footsteps got louder, and stopped right in front of his door. What did Shang Tsung have in store for him? A torturer, a beast, another fight for his entertainment maybe?

Smoke heard the sound of a rusted bolt getting dragged laboriously out of place before the door swung open.

Smoke gasped. Kurtis Stryker, bruised and bloodied, was standing above him in the doorway. A checkmark-shaped gash ran along his cheek, and one of his eyes was severely swollen and puffy, but he was there nonetheless.

Stryker gave Smoke a look.

"What, too short for a storm trooper?" Stryker laughed.

Smoke stared back at him blankly.

"Okay then, we'll skip the banter and get right to the part where I break you out of here," he said, quickly producing a key and bending down to find the spot where Smoke had been shackled to the wall.

After a few seconds of fumbling, and a few seconds of Smoke hearing the cop humming some sort of marching anthem while they were practically ear-to-ear, the assassin was freed of his bonds.

Smoke rubbed his wrists. "Thank you, both of you. "

Sonya Blade peeked her head in the doorway. "How did you hear me?"

"He's a ninja," Stryker chuckled, choosing to laugh in the face of his overtly obvious agony rather than be immobilized by it.

"No," Smoke corrected him, accepting Stryker's hand and rising back up to his feet. "I am Lin Kuei."

"I don't get the distinction," Stryker said in a confused voice, casually walking towards the door with Smoke in tow.

"I will have to explain it to you some day, but I think that will have to be during a time when we _aren't_ in the middle of a dungeon," Smoke pointed out.

"Fair enough," Stryker agreed, resting a hand on the door sill as he took a quick glance right and left before continuing into the hallway. Sonya was already ahead, with her upgraded gun in hand.

"Where are we?" Smoke wondered aloud. "This doesn't look like the place we were before."

"You're right," Stryker confirmed, unsnapping his holster and removing his Beretta. The tension in his shoulders seemed to vanish as he got reacquainted with his sidearm. The weight must have felt good in his hands.

"We are somewhere on the island right now," Stryker speculated, holding his pistol low and at the ready. "Quan Dickhead and company moved us back here, probably to use as hostages if Raiden and the others come close to winning."

"But why? Why leave us alive at all?" Sonya whispered without turning around from her position in front of them.

"Well the way I see it, each of us represents a group of people that could do a shit ton of damage to Shao Kahn's invasion forces. I'm NYPD; he was asking about the procedures for strategic response and rapid deployment and crap like that. He knew that I was the guy to ask. We don't actually run drills for surprise alien freak-wad invasions, but-"

"And I'm SF," Sonya added. "We would be at the head of any attack if Shao Kahn's men managed to gain a foothold. The tarkatan wanted to know how we fought, and what weapons and elements we had access to."

"And the Lin Kuei are… complicated," Smoke said. "That man that beat you, that _Scorpion_. I intend to have a word with him on what happened to Bi Han."

"Music to my ears. Let's move," Sonya said dryly, brandishing her weapon down the hallway in front of them. "I can see the end. Let's go, I've got a feeling something is about to go down."

MKMKMK 

"So you have come here to witness the destruction of your world," Quan Chi laughed. "Very noble. Very admirable… Wait, you don't actually want to fight us, do you? Certainly you don't believe that you can come out on top of all this."

"I believe," Raiden started, looking into Quan Chi's dead, black eyes. "That humanity will not be put down so easily."

"I believe," Quan Chi retorted. "That you are mistaken."

I heard the muffled footfalls of combat boots a second before the others did. They sounded like a river rapids; all the different sounds forming a single, distorted rhythm as they approached. Cascading down the steps behind Shang Tsung's like a flood came over a dozen armed men, each wearing a loose flak vest and cradling a very modern machine gun.

Curtains and various tapestried were brushed aside, each bristling with another armed man. The pair of golden dragons that flanked the titular throne of the Sorcerer were used as cover, as were the curtains and tapestries that surrounded it.

_An army out of nowhere._

My mind flashed to the moment we had entered. It only now occurred to me that there were plenty of places to hide behind. Plenty of ornate decorations that could conceal a man or fifteen while we approached.

Before, we had the Outworld fighters nearly outnumbered, and now that advantage had been squarely flipped on its head.

I drew my pistol, again enjoying the weight of the steel and carbon fiber in my hands. Having to do everything with your bare hands for three years is more difficult than it sounds, and having a little extra reach and killing power was nothing to take lightly.

But my enjoyment and brief rush from readying my sidearm were pretty short lived.

Turns out a dozen armed men approaching you with machine guns can be quite a buzz kill. Especially when the rifle barrel you are looking into is as black and empty as the eyes of the man holding it. Black Dragon, Kano's men. They were apparently still quite numerous, and I got a weird feeling that they knew I was the one who had personally killed a few of their own.

Kano stepped forward, drawing a pistol of his own from his waistband; a full sized semi-automatic. Big fricken thing, probably high caliber too. I turned my handgun so that the metallic strap that was slung across his chest was directly in my crosshairs.

He casually flipped off the safety and raised it in our direction. It hovered over all of us before settling on me.

_Oh awesome, another crazy gunman with a vendetta against me._

"Drop it," he ordered, dipping his gun about a centimeter downward, indicating the direction he wanted my weapon to go.

I didn't move.

He flexed one of his massive thumbs and cranked back the hammer to further make his point. The hammer made that awful triple-clicking sound as he took it back until it was almost parallel to the barrel of his gun.

Now the only thing that stood between me and him was that quarter of an inch that our fingers would have to move to fire.

And goddammit if I did not want to let go of my weapon.

People in movies and TV shows love to throw their weapons all over the place to increase the tension and prove that they are macho enough to handle anyone without a gun. But I am not one of those people.

I heard Raiden's voice, a million miles away. It sounded like the most distant echo your ears can pick up after you yell in a canyon. Barely audible, hardly relevant, but I could hear it all the same.

"You think you can scare us!" Raiden laughed. "With guns!"

All of us turned to Raiden in various states of disbelief. Me because he had _seriously_ underestimated the gravity of our situation, the Outworld kombatants because they thought he was mad, and the guys with guns because they knew that there would be no way to move fast enough to evade them.

Liu Kang and his friend might make it if we decided to run; they were certainly the fastest. But then again they were also the most naïve, and judging by my conversation with Liu Kang several days ago, they would be the ones who would believe that they could win this bout simply because they were skilled in kombat.

But in the real world, there was little you could do when faced with an attacker who brings a machine gun to the party when you yourself are unarmed. I had been in enough scrapes to understand the power that having a reliable weapon granted a man. But I feared that the Shaolin would not.

Raiden's tone deepened, somehow.

"You are not so fearsome, any of you. You believe that just because you are numerous that you have power over us?"

"That's about right," Kano whispered, still aiming at me.

"You," Quan Chi shook his head as if ashamed of Raiden. "You have finally gone mad then. Faced with defeat, you cannot accept that all your efforts are meaningless… by the gods that is hilarious. Live as long as I have and you can appreciate good irony.

"But in the end… damn it, I have started to ramble, what a foolish mistake." He cut himself off from the traditional "Why I am Better than You" rant and turned to Kano. "Have your men open fire, quickly. Kill them all."

"I don't think so!" Raiden cried, reaching toward the heavens. Power crackled around his body, and began to manifest itself in blinding bolts of electricity that swirled around his arms.

His conical hat was swept away by a sudden wind that nearly took me off my feet. Everyone in the room, save a stoic Nightwolf and an implacable Quan Chi, staggered and lowered their center of gravity to remain standing. I shut my right eye as the wind nearly blinded me from that side, and I braced myself on the floor with one hand and put a death grip on my gun with the other.

We all kneeled before the unprecedented display of power and godhood that Raiden had displayed. He was now the only thing in the room that wasn't either being swept about or struggling to stay their footing. The calm eye of the monstrous storm.

The curtains beside Shang Tsung's empty throne were literally ripped apart and swept up in the sudden typhoon. Any knick knacks or loose articles of wood or fabric that had previously been decorations in the room were promptly torn apart and swept up in the great wind.

The lamps and torches that were hung meticulously on the walls were ripped out of their housings and smashed on the floor. The throne itself shook and rattled like something out of a horror movie.

And tears from the biting wind streamed down one side of my face. I desperately pulled the safety catch on my gun to stop me from accidently shooting myself in the foot.

_Jesus, how long was this going to last?_

Suddenly, a large section of the wooden roof gave way. I briefly looked up, relieved to see that that section that was coming down was not directly above me, but closer to the gunmen and the Outworld fighters.

It was only then I realized that the raging storm was actually outside and being manipulated by Raiden. The rain pelting my face was not created by him, nor was the fierce wind; rather it was manipulated by the thunder god and magnified to bring everyone in the building into a state of submission.

The wood splintering overhead sounded more like gunfire as the oak and bamboo was broken and cast down by the elements. Nails and framework were quite literally ripped out and pulled apart with zero effort. Shrapnel rained down from above as a huge chunk of timber and support beams crashed to the floor, crushing a pair of Black Dragon goons.

Suddenly the monsoon died down. And by died down, I mean the wind was mostly gone and the rain was started pouring down in buckets through the gaping hole in the roof.

I looked up in amazement; half the roof was either on the floor or blown away, and the rain was a-comin' like none other. It was hot and torrential, just like the night I had almost been killed by Ermac.

Kano stood up, quite dazed from the ordeal, but not unaware of how the situation had changed. His red eye glowed even more brightly in the semi-darkness of the storm.

"What are you waiting for?" he turned and yelled over his shoulder at his men, who were in various states of disbelief, many still hunkered down on the floor. "SHOOT 'EM!"

At that moment a cloud of smoke engulfed the line of shooters. Clearly not by virtue of the inclement weather, but a tactic to blind and confuse. Who had done that?

The smoke was the color of the storm clouds; dark and ominous. And spread out like a carpet bomb across the back of the stage, saturating the air. A few of the men were still visible through the plume.

The rightmost Black Dragon man, who had climbed to his feet and readied his weapon, was suddenly pulled into the smoke.

_I'll be damned, our Lin Kuei friend had escaped!_

"NOW!" I heard out ninja scream through the deceptive fog.

Gunshots rang out from behind the stage, targeting the Black Dragon operatives.

Two fell immediately, collapsing in a heap on the floor.

_Stryker and Sonya!_

I couldn't see them, but the sound of a machine gun punctuated by a series of pistol shots identified the duo. They were very much alive, and wreaking havoc on Kano's garrison of mercenaries.

Suddenly our ragtag group of fighters surged forward. Raiden broke into a sprint, flanked by Liu Kang and Kung Lao, and quickly closed the gap between us and the Outworld kombatants.

Quan Chi made a noise that was somewhere between a foreign curse and a snarl before he and Scorpion led the group of assassins and killers headlong into ours. With the Black Dragon mercs confused and occupied fighting the former prisoners, our numbers were almost even.

I raised my pistol and started firing while I advanced behind the others. I saw the purple blur of Jade's staff pass me by as I pumped the trigger of my slim Beretta pistol.

The gun bucked four times in my hand as I engaged a Black Dragon operative who had turned his machine gun back at us. He jerked to the side as a bullet smacked his armored torso, throwing off a thunderous burst of gunfire and nearly turning him around in the process.

The man stumbled as the next 40 caliber round buried itself in his Kevlar harness just above the first, and his weapon quickly left his hands and clattered onto the floor.

My next two shots landed just below his heart, pushing him backward into a wooden pillar. His knees shook as his body registered the pain of the high caliber rounds.

I put the white dot that was my front sight on his neck and fired, burying a fifth round in his cheek. He finally collapsed and didn't get back up.

I turned on my heel as I spotted a man firing his weapon at Stryker and Sonya, who were ducking behind one of the stone dragons that flanked Shang Tsung's throne.

I could see his machine gun clearly, a German-manufactured G36, as is spit out suppressive fire at my allies.

I fired two rounds in rapid succession; the first missed entirely, and the second took him below the armpit, tearing a nasty-looking hole in his camouflage jacket. He fell, and I fired twice more for good measure.

I heard another pistol firing nonstop to my left. Kano. He was pumping rounds into the smoke cloud, trying to hit the ninja who was taking his men apart.

I turned and squeezed off two quick shots. Again, I missed the first one. But the second one smacked him center mass and knocked the hand cannon out of his meaty fingers.

I was going to fire again, but the slide of my gun was locked firmly in the rear position, showing me an empty chamber and a spent magazine.

_Damn it._

He coughed and took several steps backward from the force of the bullet. After a second he turned to address the shooter.

_You_, I could see his lips move as he mouthed the single word like a curse. But I quickly became the least of his problems as the horde of Earthrealm fighters met his line in a flurry of fists and kicks.

Kano turned back from me to the fight at hand to find Johnny Cage bearing down on him like an over muscled freight train.

Johnny led with a quick jab with his right hand, which was surprisingly not-telegraphed and on a collision course with Kano's dome piece.

Until Kano ducked under it. He may have been big, but his reflexes and speed were even more frightening.

Johnny, now inches away from his opponent, threw a left hook at the merc's metal eyepiece. The overhanded blow formed a particularly blurry _C _as Kano dodged the overhanded swing and delivered a punch of his own straight to the actor's gut

In the same instant, he stomped on Johnny's leading foot, his combat boot winning out over Johnny's expensive leather. He pressed his body against the actor's center of gravity, and threw him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing.

Less than a second later Johnny smacked the ground hard, coming close to breaking the boards he had fallen onto with his shoulder.

But the actor had taken worse blows before, and rolled back to his feet to reengage the mercenary.

Kano wasn't afraid to fight dirty, and drew his knife in a flash, slashing Cage across the midsection and drawing blood.

Johnny Cage hastily backed up, and in doing so slammed into the cloaked Reptile that had been sneaking up on him. Reptile grabbed at Johnny's throat with his massive claws, but Johnny grabbed both of his wrists and took the two of them to the ground, using the beast as a cushion for his fall.

And by cushion, I mean he fell forward on top of Reptile and knee-dropped him square in the gut.

While the blow had been effective, it had also made the actor completely forget about the man behind him.

I was running after them now, nearly tripping as I ran over the slippery wooden flooring. The hot summer rain blinded me for a moment, but I kept going.

Kano took advantage of the sudden arrival of his ally, flipping the combat knife over in his hand and rushing the knot of limbs that was the struggling Cage and Reptile.

_Shit! Too much distance and not enough time to reach them._

"KANO!" I screamed, charging in behind my allies.

I skirted to the left of the melee between my allies and the Outworld fighters, ducking as Jade's staff came around wide and nearly took my head off on its way to another enemy.

Kano turned, and was greeted by my empty gun smacking him on the teeth. I hadn't been close enough to hit him with it, so I had given the piece a toss and hoped for the best.

A thin line of blood dribbled down his chin, but he was somehow unfazed. It looked like my best had just pissed him off.

He wanted me dead, more than anything else. More than his body felt pain he wanted my head.

I ripped the steel baton out of my waistband, extending the collapsed rod out to its full length of 24 inches as I charged him.

He let out a war cry from between his yellowed teeth as my steel met his.

He kept his reversed grip on his butterfly knife with white knuckles as our weapons met above our heads with an ear-splitting _clang_. The desperate, enraged look on his face was probably a reflection my own expression as our rematch officially began.

He swung low and crosswise, and I literally jumped backward to avoid the hit. I _threw_ my legs backward and my feet hit the ground two or three feet behind where they had initially been to avoid disembowelment. My entire body went into my counterattack; a blow that went from above my head straight downward at his metal eyepiece.

He weaved to the left, barely avoiding the blow that would have cracked his skull.

I parried a two-hit combo that targeted my gut and neck respectively, feeling the baton vibrate wildly between my fingers each time it was met by the more sturdy material of his combat knife.

He was unfettered and twisted his wrist back to deliver a slash to my temple. The blow was not wild like the previous two, but controlled and on a difficult-to-block, upward angle. Parrying it almost knocked the nightstick loose from my grasp.

He twisted the blade against the baton as I tried to disengage him, and ended up hooking my weapon so that it was closer to him than his own knife. But I had zero time to use this to my advantage.

The L-shape made by the knife held in a reversed grip in his hand made for the perfect hook as he ensnared my weapon and yanked his arm backward, dragging his own blade, and by extension my baton, and by further extension, me until we were extremely close together. We were closer, and one of us was horribly off-balance.

I was struggling to put my feet under me as he pulled me back with him another step before swinging his blade forward yet again.

But since there was only one logical maneuver from the trapping position he had me in I couldn't help but anticipate the next strike. Actually there were probably several things he could have done from where he was, but he was going for the quick kill. The fact that he is pissed off makes him hard to fight but pretty easy to predict.

Which is why I fell forward under his blow and did a controlled fall to evade his next swing.

I tucked my head in and rolled over my right shoulder to land safely.

The gloves were officially off. This shit was getting technical.

As I stood up I nearly ran face-first into a pillar. One of the few left in one piece ran all the way from floor to ceiling, and gave me a wicked idea.

I had my back turned to Kano, a fatal mistake in almost any fight. Almost any fight.

In a single moment, still using the forward momentum from my roll and threw a leg up at the pole like I was going to kick it.

Kano was a-comin' from behind. He stabbed at my exposed back, but suddenly I was no longer there.

I kicked off with my right leg and threw my entire body in the air, doing the trick I had been taught by a parkour enthusiast several years ago, and did a complete backflip off of the wall.

As my body rolled backward in the air, I found myself directly above Kano.

I deliberately ended the fancy maneuver early as I threw out a leg came down on top of him, neatly hooking one of my heels under his armpit and pinning the other across his throat. My hands grabbed at his arm, one securing his wrist and the other barely catching his forearm in time to execute the move.

I twisted, feeling the tight, painful strain as my abdominals as I pitched and took both of us to the ground.

We did half a roll as our combined weight crashed onto the floor. It was painful for me, but it must have been hell for him.

The way I had grabbed him wasn't arbitrary; I wanted us to roll over and land with my having him in an arm bar on the floor.

And so we were; me sideways against him with one foot pressing down on his throat and the other snug against his ribs. Both of my arms held his right one out as far as it would go without breaking something.

So naturally I cranked on it some more.

He squealed as I hyperextended his dominant arm, pinning his elbow between my knees and tugging with both hands in a sloppy but effective submission hold. Textbook? No, it should have been smoother. Practical? On a scale of one to ten: about a four. Unexpected: definitely.

"_What the in the name of Christ was that_?" he spat.

"That," I whispered. "Is very dangerous and kinda stupid. Never use it in a real fight, man. It'll never work."

I raised my baton and _cracked_ it across his exposed elbow. He jolted as his right arm was immobilized and started to remember his ground game, undoing the hold I had him in with surprising speed, cursing under his breath at me the entire time.

As soon as he began to get free, I knew it would be pointless to try and hold him from that position.

I rolled backwards and out of reach as he climbed onto his feet.

He quickly switched hands with the blade and swung the knife in a roundhouse fashion.

I parried, expecting the same combo he had used earlier.

But he was all done with telegraphed swings and shit. No, he took that blade in a traditional saber grip and rammed it straight forward into my side.

The end of the knife _seared_ my body as it pierced soft flesh and nicked a rib, making the cut jagged across an even larger section of my body. God that felt awful, like being mauled by a wild animal.

The fact that the cut had been relatively shallow didn't comfort me any.

He stabbed again, and I danced around it on the balls of my feet before doing a short and fast swing of my own. A little tap motion, like a drummer striking his instrument lightly with his drum stick.

Only the end of his drumstick was not metal and meant to shatter bones.

He stopped it hard with a flick of the knife and tried to twist the baton from my grasp, grunting and spitting like a wild man from the effort. He worked the move hard and fast, and for a moment I thought he had broken my wrist; for my right arm was jacked up until it was practically above my head, and he had no intention of stopping there.

He was skilled, but lacked focus from being winded and having an arm painfully taken out. I reversed the hold by letting his knife slide too far forward along the length of my weapon, and turned it back against him, forcing him into a deep squat to retain his grip on the knife.

I used my baton to keep his knife in check, and grabbed his wrist with my free hand.

His left hand was fully extended out and up while his body was crouched low, like that traditional martial arts hold where the practitioner threatens to dislocate the man's shoulder by holding one hand on his opponent's arm and the other near the ball-and-socket joint on the shoulder.

Yeah, that one. Only I had his wrist, and it worked almost the same way. And I was in no mood for playing around, not with this madman.

See it only takes a few pounds of pressure to break a human wrist. Something like opening a pop can.

Complete with the same noise.

He screamed again as I wrenched an inch too far. His knife buried itself into the wood underfoot as the pain overwhelmed the instinct to hold onto his weapon.

Then something kicked in, some survival instinct that had suddenly been awakened within Kano. I had hurt him before, but only now was he faced with death in kombat, and that changed everything. Nothing is scarier than a man who is willing to do anything to survive.

All it would take to end him is to move the steel baton up the length of his arm and crack the tip over the back of his head; the weakest part of the human skull. And he knew it, because that's what he would have done.

That instinct was his training, and while it had only taken me a few seconds to lock him up and break his wrist, he moved even faster in escaping.

His right foot lashed out and kicked me in the gut. I felt the rigid tracks of his steel-toed boot scratch and tear at my skin as the kick hit home, making holding him there unbearable.

He tucked into a ball and literally rolled to escape the hold, throwing me onto the ground and getting himself out of range.

I swung cross-wise with the weapon. He leaned back to avoid the blow, tilting everything from his waist up backward to escape the attack.

And then he rammed his head forward. He happened to lead the head butt with the side of his face with a steel plate in it.

Oh yeah, that sucked. _Painful._

Especially when his forehead meets your own, and half of yours isn't made out of metal alloy. Talk about a headache.

Colors swam in my vision, and for a moment there were three or four Kano's in front of me.

_Damn, he's tough. I never met a man who could resist pain like he did. Even with both arms disabled, he was still coming at me._

He tapped the side of his head with the plate in it with his index finger. Suddenly I started to piece together what that red eye was for.

I might have been disoriented like none other, but I couldn't let him take me down like that.

I finally let go; releasing the rubber grip of the collapsible weapon from my sweaty hand. I let it fly at the mercenary.

The baton spun completely around once before the end hit him in the side. Suddenly he was on the ground, and not so defiant.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Sonya. One side of her face was bloodied, and her machine gun was nowhere to be seen.

"I'll take it from here, I'll finish him," she assured me. "He's my responsibility, you get back into the fight!"

I nodded as she ran off in his direction.

Suddenly I felt a pair of eyes on me. Bright, green eyes.

I turned to see Ermac looking right at me, standing over an unconscious Kung Lao. He was little more than a silhouette in the semi-darkness, but I knew it was him. All the fighting around me faded into the background. The smacking of the rain against the building and Ermac's footsteps became the loudest things, the only things that mattered.

He started towards me, putting both hands on his tunic and adjusting it like a gentleman as he started towards me. He nonchalantly stepped over Kung Lao's body as he continued his slow, deliberate march towards his former opponent.

That confident, implacable swagger was unmistakable. Rainwater dripped down his black uniform, giving his black and crimson outfit an otherworldly sheen.

"Heya Ermac," I said, shaking my head and ignoring the splitting headache that was plaguing me from the bout with Kano. "It's been too long; we've got some catching up to do."

"We agree," the spirits in the single body whispered sweetly, unfettered by the fact that he believed me to be dead. "Let us resume where we left off."

"And where's that?"

"With my hands around your neck."

**New stuff coming shortly! I hoped you liked that last bit; it was a little more technical than their first bout and I hope it's readable. Anyway, next chapter is focusing on the other characters in the midst of the fray as the battle for Earthrealm reaches its climax.**

**Stay tuned, and have a good one!**


	29. Brawl

Raiden lead the charge.

The noise of thunder sounded in the sky, and was echoed by the footfalls of the fighters' shoes as they ran. The fiery resolve of the humans was unlike anything he had seen. That rage and bloodlust burned with the insatiable destructive thirst of wildfire.

No hesitation, no fear; only rage and unshakable certainty in their eyes. Rage at the times they had been kicked, stabbed, shot and worse by Shao Kahn's hounds during their fight. The tournament that had pushed every one of them to their physical limits and beyond. The roster, the bracket, the upcoming fight… the things that billions of lives had previously counted on were now gone, replaced by a single, unregulated brawl that would decide the fate of Earthrealm.

There was now a completely new set of rules; this fight would be to the last man, to the death. And only once every warrior on a side had fallen would the battle be over. And if his men died here, Raiden knew that they would die glorious deaths, and would not have to witness the wanton destruction of Earthrealm by Shao Kahn's hordes.

Not in his wildest dreams had Raiden thought of inspiring his humans like this. He had lead them through the tournament, sure, tending to the wounded and letting the weary confide in him along the way.

_But had he truly lead them in mortal kombat?_

No. He was ashamed of himself in that regard. He could not prevent the death of Sub Zero, nor the capture of Nightwolf or the imprisonment of the other fighters. He may have always been there, but it was _they_ who were the true champions.

But today was his chance; a chance to prove that he was still mighty.

Raiden screamed with the pent up rage of a thousand men. All that time he had stood by and watched his fighters get beaten and brutalized by the fighters of Outworld. The times when the rules of the tournament had been bent without divine intervention. The anger of seeing his own men tricked, beaten, broken, and killed… Anger so intense it scared him.

He had now found a place to put it. And he directed all of it into his opening blow.

Raiden deliberately charged Quan Chi. Even Liu Kang would have trouble fighting a man who had been practicing sword and hand to hand techniques for millennia, so he took it upon himself to beat the man to a bloody pulp for his involvement with Outworld.

Quan Chi's beady, black eyes shone in the dark as he engaged the Thunder God in mortal kombat.

The two of them were the leaders of their respective factions in the charge. Cyrax and Scorpion flanked Quan Chi while Liu Kang and Kung Lao were right behind the Thunder God.

_Looking into the mirror from hell. Seeing your negative staring back at you with the same fire in his eyes._

Had Raiden been given more than a second to think on it, the experience might have been surreal.

He watched as Liu Kang and Kung Lao met Scorpion and Cyrax head on; all four slowed down and threw blows with the intent to kill. He saw Liu Kang's foot raise up, bringing the rest of his muscled leg with it for a high-flying kick. The Shaolin fought smart, and knew that Scorpion could do little to parry the power of his opening blow. The sensation of getting one of Liu Kang's feet in the ribs had once been described to him as something like "getting hit by a car without the chance to call it an accident."

And he intended to break as many of Scorpion's bones as he could.

Scorpion anticipated his opening kick, and turned his whole body to the right, bending his arm in the shape of a sideways V to protect his face from the kick and tucking his head in close to his chest; looking like a half-hearted version of the _weaving_ move performed by boxers to minimize the chance of getting nailed. He kept the other tucked against his breast, curled into a tight fist and ready to deliver a literal counterpunch from hell. A good right cross from the Hellspawn would to a lot of damage, especially considering his metal gloves and gauntlets.

Kung Lao lead with a wicked forward cutting strike, turning his hand clockwise ninety degrees and in perfect position to jam his hand into Cyrax's windpipe. Done correctly with the proper momentum, he might even tap the vertebrae at the base of his neck.

Raiden didn't even see Cyrax. He had already met Quan Chi.

Raiden took a very straight forward approach to knocking Quan Chi onto the ground; by diving headfirst into the Oni and pressing every inch of air out of his lungs in the same instant.

Any weaker of an individual would have their chest caved in, but Quan Chi got off with a minor bruise as he stumbled backwards, trying to regain his footing.

Raiden's fighting method of choice was Ju Jitsu; focusing more on grabbing, throwing, joint lock-ups and breaks, and a lot of wrestling. Raiden had been one of the art's first practitioners, and had studied its roots and progress more extensively than any other mortal could in several lifetimes. While he was inclined to strike opponents with open and closed-handed shots, throwing them onto the ground and breaking their limbs was much more effective.

And the key to Ju Jitsu is balance. _Break the enemy's balance, and you will end up breaking everything else. _

As Quan Chi backpedaled, gasping for breath, Raiden shot one of his feet in between Quan Chi's. He had effectively formed a triangle with the three boots, and wrapped his hands around Quan chi's muscular trunk.

He let his other foot hit the ground, and turned to the right, not using strength to throw Quan Chi as much as he used proper leverage.

Quan Chi yelped as his own momentum carried him a step too far, and he stumbled over Raiden's feet before he was thrown completely onto the ground.

He smacked the floorboards with a sickening _thwack_. He gasped, and watched as the stars filled his vision from all angles. His chiseled body and implacable appearance was broken for the briefest of moments as he gasped for air. His humanoid form, however tough, wasn't meant for punishment like that.

Raiden stepped forward and kicked Quan Chi in the side before jumping back out of reach.

Quan Chi cursed in his ancient, native tongue.

"You still remember how to fight, then? Very admirable. I actually believed you had grown soft during your time as Thunder God," Quan Chi said in a voice that seemed to forget the fact that he had almost been put through the floor. There was an impact crater the size of a man's torso where he had hit the ground, but he seemed not to notice.

The Kombatant from Hell was perfectly calm and composed as he stood back up to his full height, cracking his neck casually.

"Let's make it a good fight, then," Quan Chi declared with a wicked smile.

Raiden barely moved in time.

Quan Chi came literally straight forward with a side kick, almost too fast for his eyes to track. The kick had been initiated the moment the word _then_ had escaped his lips.

Faster than I remember him being, Raiden thought as he instinctively blocked with his arm.

Raiden threw down his forearm and beat down the kick, feeling the leather of Quan Chi's boot hard against his arm as he stopped the attack.

Quan Chi came back down onto both feet while managing to keep his guard up. He instantly regained his balance and kept his arms up in a guarding position, a fallacy of many martial artists who employ high kicks, who drop their hands instinctively for some reason.

Raiden thought back to what he knew about the former Oni; _the man has been alive for millennia in the most hostile and unforgiving place one could think of. Peak physical condition, extremely agile, and he apparently has a wicked-high pain tolerance. He is one of the founders and a Grandmaster of Eskrima; Filipino stick and knife fighting. The art that teaches not only swordsmanship and steady footwork, but also sports plenty of takedowns and nasty maneuvers. _

Quan Chi swung at Raiden's throat in the next instant with a sideways chop that came unnaturally fast. An inborn motion as natural to Quan chi as breathing.

Raiden ducked to the left, watching as Quan Chi's arm continued to extend through the blow, and delivered a short left-handed jab to Quan Chi's temple.

Quan Chi staggered, and withdrew his hand as Raiden let loose on the disoriented demon.

Raiden fired a flurry of short, well-aimed strikes with both open and closed hands. To Quan Chi's credit, he withdrew into the guard position immediately and kept both forearms locked in front of his own face for protection.

Quan Chi cupped both hands on the crown of his head, forming a barrier with his thick forearms and elbows.

Raiden came forward with a backfist, putting a sadistic spin on the commonly used backhand slap by closing his fist and rapping his knuckles over Quan Chi's head. But the hit wasn't square enough to do any real damage.

A right-handed straight-punch followed the backfist. Quan Chi twisted in his protective stance, weaving to the right and moving his head so that the blow glanced off of his forearm.

Raiden hooked a left, trying to get around Quan Chi's guard, but Quan Chi refused to stop moving; continuing in his serpentine pattern as he retreated from the attack.

Raiden abandoned the combo, stepping forward and kicking Quan Chi in the inner-thigh. The bottom of Raiden's foot connected with the softest tissue in his leg, and Quan Chi was too busy moving and blocking punches to move in time.

Quan Chi staggered, and gasped as he was nearly brought to his knees.

Raiden shot forward like a spring-powered toy, holding his arm firmly in the shape of an _L_ as he fired an uppercut beneath Quan Chi's loosened-up guard.

The punch connected with the demon's chin, and rocked his head backward at a dangerous angle.

He fell backwards until his bare, pale back hit the window separating them from the storm. Raiden heard the glass crack as it struggled under his weight, spider webbing across several separate panes.

Raiden ran towards him, and in only three steps, was face to face with the monster.

Quan Chi was braced against the window, seething. Through his gritted, pearly teeth, several beads of red dribbled down from his gums and onto his chin.

Raiden reengaged the wounded Quan Chi with another straight-on palm strike aimed at his nose. He could imagine the window breaking and Quan Chi falling into oblivion. That is, if it landed.

Quan Chi suddenly ducked to the right, weaving around Raiden's strike and letting the Thunder God's open hand shatter the window behind him. Raiden's gloves became stained with blood as he broke the tempered glass.

Quan Chi countered by slamming a closed fist into Raiden's side, hooking his arm low and fast, and powering his fist into the Thunder God's floating ribs.

Raiden doubled over, and Quan Chi seized the opportunity.

Quan Chi grabbed Raiden by the shoulders and held him in place as he brought a knee crashing into Raiden's clenched jaw.

Raiden was disoriented, but only for a second.

Raiden reversed Quan Chi's grip before grabbing him around the trunk and lifting the Oni up and carrying him backward.

Raiden heard a distinct ping sound as the pair of them crashed into Shang Tsung's abandoned throne. Quan Chi exhaled as the Thunder God pinned him against the jagged, metal surface.

Quan Chi dropped both of his elbows, using the combined weight of his upper body to break Raiden's hold. He then kneed Raiden again, this time in the Solar Plexus, and brought an open-handed palm strike into Raiden's ear, severely disorienting him.

Quan Chi felt Raiden take a step away, and lifted his left foot and pushed him away by kicking him in the middle of his broad chest.

Raiden was still out of it, unsure of which direction he was going. And Quan Chi seized the chance.

The demon jumped off of his back leg and propelled himself in the air until he was directly above the Thunder God, with a meaty fist raised above his head.

The weight of Quan Chi's 90+ kilo body was brought back to Earth, and all directed into the hammerfist.

Raiden's hat shattered with a sickening _thwack_ as he hit struck home. Quan Chi didn't know if he had killed the God, or simply stunned him from the blow. The fact that his entire body weight was used instead of the strength only in his shoulder made it infinitely more dangerous. Shards of Raiden's conical hat hung in the air for a brief instant before floating to the ground.

Raiden went to his knees, planting a fist on the ground to prevent himself from keeling over.

Quan Chi stood victorious over the Thunder God, bleeding and battered, but victorious.

"You are as tolerant to pain as you are deluded," Quan Chi taunted as Raiden attempted to climb back onto his feet. Raiden's hands shook under his own weight, and his vision was now a muddled, cloudy mess of colors. Quan Chi wasn't even sure Raiden could hear him anymore.

"Earthrealm cannot beat Outworld in mortal kombat, you knew that the first time you yourself were challenged by Shao Kahn and lost," Quan Chi recounted, pausing for a second to spit out a gob of blood. "The Elder Gods tried in vain to save your world from annihilation, but I am afraid you have exhausted all of your options, Raiden.

"It is the way of the universe for the strong to conquer the weak, is it not? You know that only the worthy get to take the next step forward in evolution. Have you finally lost it, or is the chance to fight for the inept humans just too damn noble to pass up?"

"To oppose a psychopath bent on the destruction of the entire universe is the _only_ option, Quan Chi. After he has destroyed Earthrealm, there is nothing between him and your own plane," Raiden growled from his position on the floor. "He will destroy everything unless he is stopped. Why can't you understand that?!"

"Oh, I understand perfectly, Raiden. Shao Kahn has no desire to rule over hell, so why take what he has no need for? Your world, on the other hand, is a very high-value target; plenty of land for crops to feed his troops, plenty of slaves for his growing industry, and most importantly, a chance to break the will of all other realms who still oppose his rule.

"After your realm is wiped from existence, after your people are enslaved and your world is naught but a wasteland, there will be a high place for me in his new order. A chance to start anew… but no such opportunity exists for you, Raiden. You will die for what you believe in, _isn't that what you've always wanted?_"

Raiden suddenly stood up, knees shaking and blood continuing to stain his tunic. He looked his opponent in the eye and started to move forward.

Quan Chi yelled in anger and threw his foot in a high arc, slamming the laces of his boot into Raiden's clenched jaw in a powerful front round kick. Quan Chi felt something crack under his blow, but he wasn't sure what.

Raiden spun completely around, yet remained on his feet.

Quan chi pivoted on his heel and again faced Raiden. Small, crooked, streams of blood flowed from the left side of his face and leaked down onto his ivory clothing. But still the Thunder God didn't quit.

"Goodbye, Raiden," Quan Chi whispered as he reached at him with both hands. A quick turn would snap Raiden's neck like a twig.

But Raiden couldn't let that happen.

He pretended to fall in front of Quan Chi, dipping down and grabbing at the hellspawn's ankles.

He wrapped his gloved hands around each of his boots and yanked upward.

Quan Chi screamed as he nearly did a backflip before crashing to the floor.

Raiden's foot shot forward and caught Quan Chi in the jaw, rocking his head backward and actually bringing him back to his feet. Quan Chi fell back, stunned, until he bumped into Shang Tsung's throne.

Quan Chi's eyes burned with an unreal hatred. He screamed and came forward with a wild punch at Raiden's face. His entire body tensed up, and his huge arms seemed to grow as he attacked with a wild haymaker.

Raiden stepped back, avoiding the blow entirely. Quan Chi took two steps forward after missing his punch, stumbling forward awkwardly as if he was a drunk.

Raiden folded his left arm until his elbow was pointed like a spear at Quan Chi's back. He lunged forward, stepping into the hit and smashing the backside of his elbow into Quan Chi's exposed spine.

Quan Chi howled in pain.

Raiden suddenly jumped in front of the demon, bringing a vertical chop onto Quan Chi's dome with enough force to shatter concrete.

Quan chi once again fell backward and slammed into the throne of the Sorcerer.

Raiden walked casually toward him, ignoring the pain in his head, and grabbed Quan Chi by the neck.

He grunted as he lifted Quan Chi up by the throat, holding him several inches off of the floor while staring into his eyes.

Raiden shook his head as if he was ashamed of Quan Chi, showing no real strain or fatigue from hoisting him up by the neck with a single hand.

"You tell your Emperor that _his_ cause is the one that is but a delusion," Raiden said defiantly before turning and throwing Quan Chi out the window and into the storm.

MKMKMK

Kitana flicked her wrist and let loose another bladed fan, which buried itself into the chest cavity of another Black Dragon soldier. He didn't have time to be afraid of the weapon before it ended him, dropping him onto the steps he had been using as a platform to shoot from.

The mercenaries were almost wiped out by either the combined fire of Stryker and Sonya or the fan and boomerang throwing of Kitana and Jade. Jade had taken out a pair of guards with a single throw before engaging a furious Baraka. She had since disappeared from Kitana's view.

Kitana whirled about, looking for her longtime friend and bodyguard in the brawl. She caught only glimpses of the rest of the fight as she searched for the bright green uniform Jade wore.

_Liu Kang yelping as he kicked Scorpion in the chest, sending the hellspawn back several meters across the floor, precious kunai falling from his grasp._

_Cyrax repeatedly dropping elbows onto a doubled-over Nightwolf, dipping his entire body as each blow continued to pummel the Shaman between the shoulder blades. Nightwolf sank to his knees. As Cyrax prepared to kick him in the throat, Nightwolf grabbed him by the utility belt and dragged him to the floor with him._

_Johnny Cage delivered a reverse punch to the liver of a now-unarmed Black Dragon goon. The merc shuddered and dipped before throwing a cross at Johnny's jaw. The actor ducked to the side before turning his hips to the side and cranking his left leg forward. A loud snap was heard as Johnny's roundhouse kick pulverized the soldier's floating ribs. The soldier doubled over, and Johnny delivered a final punch to the base of the man's skull, ending the engagement._

Kitana completed her 360 degree turn, having found no sign of Jade among the struggling mob around her. Kano hit the floor in front of her and was unconscious, and she could see Max engaging Ermac in her peripherals.

When she looked back, someone very familiar was waiting.

Mileena stood in front of her, expressionless and with her arms hanging down by her sides, a Sai clutched firmly in each hand. The design of her mask and revealing costume did little to disguise her animalistic nature. Her eyes were impossibly wide, now the size of buttons and a shiny midnight black. The effect her enlarged pupils had on her yellowed outer-eye looked something akin to a solar eclipse.

"Sister," Mileena said in an ambiguous tone. "I thought you would be looking for me. Let us get to know each other a little better, yes?"

"I didn't come here for you, you _freak_," Kitana said flatly. "I came here to stop _him_."

"Well Shang Tsung can't really talk right now… in fact, he can't do much of anything anymore," Mileena said, grinning under her mask. "But I would be happy to handle you myself-"

The sight of Kitana drawing both war fans at once silenced Mileena's faux greeting.

"Oh, straight to the violence then?" Mileena teased. "If you say so, _princess_."

Kitana didn't give the creature the opportunity to throw the first punch or decide the direction of the fight. She instead forced Mileena to retreat with a crosswise swing of one fan, and a stab with another.

Both didn't connect, but then again Kitana doubted they would. She only wanted to upset Mileena's confidence so she would be able to end the engagement quickly.

Mileena skipped back with the grace of a dancer before stabbing with one of her Sai.

Kitana heard metal on metal as she deflected Mileena's telegraphed swing. Mileena withdrew and took another three steps backward, avoiding the usual novice mistake of not disengaging.

_She is well-trained_, Kitana observed as she watched Mileena's balanced footwork. _But how could she be kombat-ready after only walking the Earth for the first time a few days ago?_

Kitana didn't expect an answer, and instead focused on how she could defeat Mileena quickly and with tact. She searched her long memory for what she had learned about Sai knife fighting.

_Sai are dangerous weapons in the right hands. They are infinitely easier to handle than steel fans, and the fighting method has only a few kata to memorize. While useful for stabbing and gouging, they can also be easily switched to a reversed grip to block the enemy's weapon by holding the width of the blade against the user's forearm. Traditionally, one Sai is held in a traditional grip for offence and the other for defense in the reversed grip, much like combat knives. However, the extra brackets on each side of the blade are used for trapping techniques that involve twisting/breaking/ shattering the opponent's weapon._

Easy to handle and dangerous against a trained opponent, no wonder Shang Tsung equipped Mileena with the knowledge of how to use them, Kitana thought as Mileena struck back.

Mileena made a snarling noise like that of an injured cat as she stabbed at her sister. Her face contorted as she let her wild side, the tarkatan side, roam free.

Mileena went straight for Kitana's throat, and Kitana knocked away the Sai with one of her fans, barely moving in time.

Mileena spun in a full 360 circle like a ballerina, cocking back both arms and swinging them in a wind milling motion at Kitana.

Kitana ducked the first swing and jumped backward as the second cut the air in front of her. But Mileena kept spinning, swinging her Sai in a slashing motion at Kitana's ankles.

Kitana jumped over the hit like it was a jump rope from hell, coming down onto her feet just in time to see Mileena switch to a reverse grip with the other Sai and ram the hilt at her nose.

Kitana weaved to the side like a boxer would to avoid a punch. She slashed at where she knew Mileena's arms would be; directly in front of her. She turned over her wrist to extend all five blades of her steel fan before swinging it in a motion similar to the uppercut.

But Mileena had already moved back.

Too late Kitana knew there would be nothing for her to hit, and Mileena seized the opportunity to catch her off-balance.

Mileena stabbed, and drove one of her Sai six centimeters into Kitana's let shoulder. The speed with which she attacked was matched only by that which she moved back into her guard.

Kitana saw a small spurt of blood follow the Sai out of its entry point, staining both of their clothing. Kitana feigned a stab with her right arm, and Mileena took a step back just like Kitana would have.

_Damn, she is improbably fast. A few days out of the tank and she is already quicker than I am,_ Kitana thought in a vain attempt to take her mind off of the serious wound that had just been inflicted on her.

It burned her behind the eyes, that kind of pain. She let go of the fan in her left hand and held the right one between her and Mileena as Mileena began to advance once again.

Mileena's eyes were not curious like they had been a moment ago, nor were they on fire with anger. They were cold, calculating, and unblinking as she continued.

_But I am stronger._

Mileena yelped again, and stabbed with her leading side. Kitana intercepted her Sai with her folded-up fan before they both disengaged.

The two women watched each other like hawks, looking for any indication of when the other was going to strike. A millionth of a second too late could mean death for either of them.

Mileena swung laterally with one Sai, turned on her heel and brought the other down like a hammer. They weren't directed at Kitana's body, but rather her remaining weapon. Both missed and the last swing went all the way to the floor as Mileena made her first miscalculation.

The Sai buried itself into the floor, and Kitana wasted no time in extending her war fan and countering her sister's next desperate strike, while snapping one of her feet out in the same moment and hitting Mileena in the hand that was trying to pry the weapon from the ground.

Mileena let go without hesitation, and watched as Kitana twirled her wrist and nearly launched her remaining Sai into oblivion. She had no qualms about using her free hand to punch Kitana while they struggled.

Not in the face, but directly in the shoulder where she had inflicted the stab wound.

Kitana screamed and backpedaled as Mileena's fist pummeled her stab wound, narrowly avoiding getting decapitated by another pair of wild slashes aimed at the base of her skull.

Mileena jumped into the air and came forward with a snap-kick, keeping her lower leg parallel to the ground and firing her lower leg upward to form an even plane.

The heel of her combat boot met Kitana's cheek with a horrible sound.

Mileena laughed wickedly as she came back to Earth, giving her wounded sister a small bow like they had been sparring.

"You disappoint me, sister. Shang Tsung spoke highly of you. Said to be _perfect_, _above reproach_, even _skilled in every way that counts._ Yet I hesitate to call this a contest!" she laughed. "10,000 years of fighting and are not up to the task of defeating a newborn? That is funny, no?

"And even Shang Tsung, I wounded him quite easily! I thought I had ended his life, but the old man is quite resourceful. Surviving a punctured lung from one of my blades, his fate too is mine to decide… what say you, sister?"

Kitana looked up and met the eyes of the creature called Mileena.

"You are no sister to me, Mileena. And you cannot kill me," Kitana said defiantly.

"And why not?" Mileena asked playfully.

"Because you are destined to fail," Kitana hissed back. "Because… for all your boasts… and claims, you were brought forth as a failed experiment, you couldn't kill Shang Tsung, and you are unable to kill me."

Mileena went quiet. Dead quiet.

"You are the real monster, Kitana!" Mileena yelled back over the cacophony of the brawl happening around them. "If it weren't for your filth… your mistakes, none of this would have ever happened!"

"You believe me to be wrong?" Kitana asked, tempting fate. "Have a go, try to end me once and for all. Go on, if you are so very mighty then you should have no problems killing a wounded Edenian woman!"

Mileena came forward faster than Kitana anticipated.

She batted away Kitana's remaining fan with sadistic ease, and brought the Sai around to stab Kitana through the ear.

Mileena froze when her arm was brought to a standstill. She looked up and found Kitana's hand wrapped around her wrist.

"No," Kitana whispered, having stopped the blade less than a centimeter from her ear.

Kitana pulled Mileena towards her and threw a kick at Mileena's kneecap.

The princess felt the _crunch_ as Mileena's knee was thrown out of place by the heel of her boot.

Mileena screamed, and Kitana wrapped both hands around her wrists and threw her like she weighed nothing.

Mileena was weightless for the briefest of seconds before she slammed into a wooden pillar. The battered child slumped to the floor, cursing and growling at Kitana.

"You," Mileena said in an impossibly sweet voice. "Are really starting to tread on my nerves… sister."

She slowly rose to her feet, balancing carefully on her right leg as she did so.

Mileena motioned for her to "bring it" with both hands.

"Come on!" she wailed desperately. "Let us dance!"

Both were now unarmed, and only one could walk away.

Kitana jabbed at Mileena's floating ribs with a closed fist.

Mileena blocked with the outer side of one arm and swung in an overhanded fashion at Kitana's head with the other.

Kitana ducked the blow and cupped a hand behind Mileena's head, using her opponent's vulnerable state to throw her several meters across the floor.

Mileena practically bounced as she met the hardwood and slid across the wet surface. She again groaned in pain as she immediately tried to get back up.

"Go on, get up, "Kitana taunted back. "I'll let you, if you think you can."

The words hadn't left her mouth and Mileena was already on her feet and hot with anger.

Mileena used her good leg to kick at Kitana, jumping high in the air and bringing the foot down in a wicked axe-kick.

Kitana evaded the blow, and flung a back kick of her own into Mileena's gut.

Mileena doubled over, and Kitana did what Mileena had attempted seconds before; she lifted her foot up with unrivaled flexibility until it was above Mileena's head, and then brought it down onto the top of her skull.

Mileena's ears rang with pain she had not yet known, and she hit the ground face-first, her black hair obscuring her expression.

I've discovered her weakness, Kitana realized. She hasn't taken a real blow yet in her life, and she doesn't have the pain tolerance to match her speed!

Kitana grabbed a tuft of Mileena's hair and yanked the half-breed back to her feet.

Holding her head back at a disorienting angle, Kitana let loose with her free hand.

The first punch knocked the air from the woman's lungs, smashing her vulnerable solar plexus and winding her. Kitana then reeled back and put a fist into Mileena's teeth.

Her fist hurt for a moment and then went numb, but she didn't care. Kitana hit her sister again in the nose before finally releasing her from her death grip.

Mileena fell into a heap at the edge of the arena; a bloody, sobbing heap of a young woman, defeated by the very Edenian she had been cloned from.

Kitana was seething with anger. Her shoulder pained her like none other, and her jaw was no doubt swollen and puffy from the kick that hit her in the face.

Mileena looked back up at her sister.

"You really think Mileena is a freak, don't you?" she cried quietly. "You think that just because you were born from a mother's womb that you are made of greater stuff than I am?"

Kitana shook her head, forgetting the pain as she felt pity for the creature in front of her. "I do not believe myself to be better than you, Mileena. I just wish you had never been created to take my place-"

"You know what I want?" Mileena demanded. Rain now poured on her from the growing hole in the ceiling, and mixed with the blood flowing down her face. "I want to understand _why_."

"Why what?" Kitana asked, confused.

"Why the world is as it is. The books told me how, but the world outside of the Flesh Pits scares me, Kitana. It confuses me; the more Mileena thinks… the less she understands why the world hates her.

"Why the world wishes Mileena was never born. The way people LOOK at me," she growled, a tear running down one side of her face. "Do you know what it is like to have people look at you and only see your impurity and failure, and that you have done nothing to deserve it? No, why of course you don't understand what that is like, _princess_, you can't!

"You can't because your entire life everyone has loved you… and when they look at me, all they can see is _you, with fangs."_

Kitana was silent. "I am sorry, Mileena. But I can't change any of that."

"But I can," Mileena whispered. "If a god is considered to be enlightened, and is the only one who has achieved enlightenment… then does destroying she whom you consider infallible make _you_ a god? Does that make you worthy? Mileena believes so."

Kitana shook her head. "You are insane!"

"Far from it," she whispered. "I'm just… different."

Before Kitana could say another word, she heard a war cry from somewhere behind her. She rose up to her feet and turned to address the threat.

It was a Black Dragon man, holding a combat knife in his hand and very much bloodied. He was looking at Kitana, but he wasn't moving.

And then Kitana saw a Japanese sword protruding out of his chest, the blade stained deep red with blood. The weapon was withdrawn, and the man slumped to the ground. Behind him stood Kenshi, looking to be in much better condition than the man he had fought with.

"Never bring a knife to a swordfight!" Kenshi shouted, somehow identifying the woman in front of him as a friendly. Suddenly, Kenshi tilted his head in Kitana's direction, the loose, soggy ends of his blindfold hanging to one side as he listened.

"Kitana!" He yelled. "Behind you!"

Kitana knew she wouldn't be fast enough to stop the woman. Mileena might be crippled, but she could still fight from the ground.

Kitana turned slowly, expecting another Sai or a pair of hands to grab her, but saw nothing.

She blinked and looked again.

She saw the figure of a woman, a black silhouette illuminated by the lightning, standing over the edge of the window facing the sea. And suddenly she was gone.

Kitana cursed herself silently.

_Mileena can wait; we still have a battle to win. _

**Hey everyone! Hope you enjoyed the latest… this took a fricken long time to write out. Longer than usual anyway. Anyhoo, review and gimme some feedback on what you think of part two of the battle.**

**P.S. Since this story is going to come to an end soon (I would like to continue it, but I would also like to let this story end in a natural and definitive way) I was considering a sequel of sorts sometime in the near future…**


	30. Grudge Match

Me and him. All that ever mattered before this moment faded into oblivion; into the blurry peripherals of my mind. There was no great struggle or melee going on around us. No one was dying, there was just us.

His green eyes bore into mine, solid circles piercing the dark of the storm like a knife. Implacable and emotionless, he just stood there in front of me; whatever expression he wore was hidden under his mask, and I forgot that he was anything like a human.

He could see right through me, right through my practiced and balanced stance and the sweat and rain that I was drenched in. He knew me better than Kitana or Kenshi or anyone, simply because he had fought me.

I felt like I had known this man for the better part of my life; like he had always been there to oppose me, even though I would have laughed at anyone who told me that something like him could exist a few weeks ago.

What scared me was not the fact that he was ambiguous and unpredictable, or even the fact that he was a fighter with an insane amount of muscle memory, but that he showed no emotion, no pain, and absolutely no mercy.

I didn't know whether or not he was truly evil, or even truly monstrous. And that lack of understanding made him a most dangerous opponent.

His black leather boots slid across the floor as he balanced on his back leg, holding his left foot forward and bringing both of his fists up to shoulder-level, ready to unleash all manner of unpleasantness on me.

I simply nodded back at him, telling myself that it was okay to be scared. Fear puts you on edge, makes you focused, refines you if you let it. There was no backing away from this fight. No running, no way to cheat either.

_The world doesn't teach you how to be a man, neither does combat training. A man is one who stands firm in the face of imminent death, defending what he believes in until the end._

I have always wanted to be a man, ever since my exile, I have longed for another cause to throw myself into; another fray, another challenge to face.

With nothing held back, this would be the moment that forever defined our lives, for better or for worse; we would truly be alive today, as our physical and mental limits would be tested.

We were both combat specialists of the highest order, not by virtue of inborn skill or simply for competition or ranking, but by necessity. We fought for survival, the only thing that mattered.

I raised both of my arms and curled my gnarled and bruised hands into fists, holding them in front of my chin and setting one of my feet forward, pointing my toes at him. We mirrored each other for a moment, a pair of dark silhouettes squaring off in the storm.

I moved on him first, feeling my sore and strained muscles tug back as I forced them into motion once again. The wear and tear was something awful, something I could do nothing about.

I crouched low, keeping my footing on the soaked floorboards as I rushed him. I felt the fire rage behind my eyes as I remembered the humiliating beating I had received last time we had fought. I vowed that the only way I would be beaten would be if he killed me. Anything less was superficial.

"AAHHHHH!" I roared, a low guttural scream from the pit of my stomach, as I charged him.

He didn't move, but kept his footing and composure like I wasn't even there. He didn't betray any emotion; he didn't shake, and didn't even flinch until I threw the first punch.

I came forward with a right cross; a powerful straight-punch that started just in front of my ear and extended across my entire body. I cranked my hips through the blow, turning on the balls of my right foot as m entire body weight went into the blow.

I kept my other arm up, hand balled into a fist still, and in the shape of a loose L in front of my face and throat. I had dropped my guard last fight, and still had the bruises to show it. I wouldn't make the same mistake again.

He dodged the blow with incredibly speed, crouching on his haunches like boxer; ducking and weaving out of the way as his body went low and came back up to his full height, with his counter attack following.

Before I even knew it, he threw a left hook above my outstretched arm, knowing that there was no way I could block him, and smashed a fist into my temple.

Either he had steel gauntlets on or his hand was made of wood, because that shit hurt. Hurt like he had permanently damaged something, and gave me an unsettling lack of balance.

I spun completely around from the force of the impact, retracting my right arm and bringing it back up to protect my head.

And a good thing it was instinct to guard my head, because I lost sight of him for a second when I turned. In the dark of the storm, it took me a half-second too long to register that he had jumped into the air, extended a hand like he was trying to touch the ceiling, and brought it on top of me like he was trying to hammer in a nail.

The hammer fist smacked my forearm and glanced off as he came down; hurt like a bitch, but I was still conscious.

He kicked low as he continued his offensive, cranking his hips and coming crosswise with a roundhouse aimed at my vulnerable rib cage.

I raised my left foot, holding my shin outward and pointing my toes at the floor, using my leg to stop his. The feeling of his shin hitting mine was excruciating, but it was the only way.

I am surprised I didn't feel a snap as his leg met mine with enough force to shatter most species of hardwood. Bones were hard, but there was only so much punishment they could take.

I jumped backward on my good leg as he followed up with a crosswise chop with his right hand. It almost looked like he was trying to backhand slap me, but his hand was turned to the side and would have crushed my windpipe instead of bruising my face.

Water droplets danced as his arm arced out through the blow that he had failed to land. Lightning flashed again, and lit up his aggressive stance and tensed body in the brief light.

He didn't stop or overcorrect himself, instead using the same momentum to keep turning clockwise. Halfway through the rotation, he lifted his right leg and came at me with a low back kick.

I jumped left and out of the way, letting him turn completely around.

But he didn't hesitate for a second after missing both hits. He drew his left arm across his body, pointing the back side of his elbow at me for an instant; much like a baseball player would call his shot, before leaping forward with the hardest part of his arm extended like a short spear.

I dodged left, ending up behind him. He again used this failed hit to launch another, snapping his arm straight out to fire a backfist at me. Similar to the aforementioned backhanded slap, but with a closed fist and much more dangerous.

With his arm like that of a crane carrying a wrecking ball, he rotated around to deliver his payload.

I ducked, and was left facing him for a quarter of a second before I fired a short uppercut underneath his chin.

His head rocked back at an unhealthy angle, and I seized the opportunity.

I swung my body as if to deliver a right hook, but instead of using my fist, I got much closer to him and used the front of my elbow to smack him across his exposed jaw.

He staggered, for real this time. Last time I had struck him, it had seemed like only a hindrance, but this time I could tell that he was in some sort of pain.

His eyes opened and shut, like some child incessantly flicking the switch on a pair of lights, as he tried to recover.

He used his meaty shoulder to throw a counter punch with his left hand, and I stuck out my forearm outward to deflect the blow. I could see his, _their_, anger rising behind the mask.

His next blow I didn't see; not until it had already connected.

He used a reverse punch, a taekwondo and karate trademark, to double me over. My left side still ached, and the short, straight-on punch to my floating ribs was disorienting and nauseating in the same instant.

He came forward next with a palm heel strike, an open handed blow that also had roots in karate, and smacked me at an upward angle right in the nose.

It was my turn to rock backward as water filled the edges of my eyes and blood ran from my damaged nostrils.

He kicked me in the solar plexus, and I dropped to my knees. Blood leaked into my open mouth, and mixed with the rainwater as I tried to keep breathing.

Or rather, get my breath back.

It felt like a dump truck was pressing on my lungs, stopping my ability to take in a breath, only making me expel my remaining air. I coughed several times, blood coming up and no air coming in.

And goddamn if it wasn't the most scared I've ever been in my life.

I watched with fascination as the mixture or saliva and gore slowly dripped from my swollen lips to the ground, some of it held together by the viscosity of my spit.

No shame. No shame. I didn't even remember what it felt like, I just remember the fight before. I remember what it is like to die.

The sky above me darkened as Ermac stepped into view. I manage to look up, holding back tears and bile, both of which threatened to burst out of my body any moment.

He looked like a giant above me, an imposing figure unfettered by the blows he had taken, standing over me as if ashamed that I had been downed so quickly.

He looked down for a long minute before he spoke.

"You came a long way to die."

The words rang in my ears, louder than the unbearable ringing that had already nearly deafened me. I felt all pain there was to feel, old and new, as it crashed over me like waves at high tide.

I shook, all of me shook. My hands and feet, the knees I had put my weight on, and everything in between.

"You fought like a man," the many voices said in a poorly synchronized monotone. Before they had spoken as one, but with the damage I had inflicted on him came disorganization and lack of coordination between the spirits in his body. A minor problem compared to my current plight.

"… and so you will die like one, Maxwell. May you spend the afterlife in heaven," they said softly. The closest thing to emotion I had ever heard out of Ermac. And it sounded oddly like respect.

But respect doesn't matter, not when you're about to die.

I couldn't die… I shouldn't die. Not here, and not because of him.

I started thinking, trying to put the swirling mass of colors and random phrases in my mind into coherent thoughts.

I tried not to think about physical pain, or agony. And in doing so, both sensations were at the forefront of my mind.

I thought back to when I had been in school, almost fifteen years ago. My teacher had explained what pain really was:

_What people call pain is really a series of signals between your body and your brain, telling your brain that if you do not do something about the damage you're causing to your body, your body will suffer. So what they say is true, Max, pain is just in your head. But it isn't as forgettable as a mere thought._

_Agony: extreme mental or physical suffering, very excruciating._

I bowed my head as he raised a hand high into the air, ready to bring down a final blow to the back of my head. With the strength he had, a blow to the base of my skull would kill me instantaneously, ceasing all brain function.

"No," I whispered. Another bead of blood escaped my lips as I muttered the word softly. I felt the warm stuff well up in my mouth as I coaxed my body into motion one last time. My legs lifted, my arms held me up again, and for a moment all I could think about was the look on the face of that son of a bitch.

_I had fought half a dozen men and escaped with nothing but my life. I had beaten a knife-obsessed killer twice, and I had taken a beating like none I've ever received, and then climbed back up to continue the good fight. _

_After all that, this punk won't be the one to end me, not if I have anything to say about it._

I screamed like the wild animal that I was, loud and shrill and in desperation, as I balled my hands into fists. From being tucked into a ball on the floor, I rose up in one last act of desperation.

Then I leapt at Ermac, keeping my head bowed as if in submission. I used the crown of my skull as a weapon, smashing it in an upward thrust at Ermac's teeth.

My harder bone prevailed, and I felt something crunch as I jumped to my feet. I felt the pain, the hot and unbearable pain, but now I had something to do with it.

He took several steps backward, shaking his head before clapping his fists together and coming at me full force.

He launched a flurry of fast, wild punches in my direction. I held up my hands to guard myself, but this time I kept moving. A moving target is a hard target, I remembered.

_Right! Left! Right! Hook! Uppercut! Right! Left! Left!_

His arms worked like a pair of pistons on overdrive as he used his fists like most people use a machine gun; as many times as physics would allow, and hoping one would eventually hit me.

The blows came faster than I could call them out or even register how many there were. I just kept moving, kept my feet under me, and remembered what was at stake.

I danced to the left, taking two fast steps to avoid his first two punches, and ducked back to the right as he attempted and uppercut, throwing his muscular arms at me like his life depended on it.

I looked around frantically as he spun full circle with a high hook kick, spinning on one foot and trying to take my head off with the heel of the other. His boots slid a half inch the wrong direction as he nearly fell. And I kept moving, watching my step as he pursued my without abandon or control.

I reversed direction again, avoiding a sharp left hook. I felt the sleeve of his thick jacket graze my hair as it passed harmlessly over my head. With the quick twist of his body, he was now turned completely around.

I fired a short punch of my own, nailing him in the small of his back; that area where there was not a shred of bone or cartilage to shield his kidneys. I heard a dozen voices yelp in surprise as the hit registered.

Ermac jolted and leaned backward in pain, still facing away from me.

And I heard an exasperated grunt from somewhere in front of me as he turned.

It took a second to realize that it was Ermac. The stoic, implacable man was growling in exasperation and heated fury as he tried to kill me with his bare hands.

I didn't need to see his face to know that he was more pissed now that he had ever been before. His green eyes narrowed at me, hating me more than anything.

The sucker moved _very_ fast, and it was clear that the hypothetical gloves had officially come off. He lunged forward and grabbed me by my shirt and sucked me towards him with his bulky arm.

I felt the slick, rough leather of one of his gloves brush against my throat as he grabbed my collar, holding my shirtfront with a death grip.

His left hand closed like a bear trap, securing me in place, while his right swung wildly.

He threw a haymaker punch in a long, wide arc. The image didn't register until he had already almost hit me. The back half of my forearm stopped the hit mere inches from my jawline.

He swung again, growling in several distinct tones and languages as he went for the same wild punch.

I stopped it again with the blade of my lower arm, and we both screamed as our limps ached from the ordeal.

_I had to get out of here. I'm dead if I don't keep moving._

I used my right hand to grab the base of his wrist, giving a short tug to loosen up the hold he had on me. His wrist, the weakest part in anyone's body, didn't have the strength to hold against my entire arm, and his fingers slipped free.

I actually didn't expect him to lose his grip entirely. The Israeli term was plucking, and was meant to break a stranglehold, but at the same time to keep ahold of the attacker's hand so you can throw him to the ground.

But I had something even better in mind.

I suddenly shot forward, coming in fast and low, like a football player trying to take someone out at the legs.

I tucked everything, head and shoulders, in close as I went under his outstretched arm, but leaving my elbow out as I passed under his reach.

My elbow smashed into his armpit as I passed, clipping his vulnerable ribs and disabling his entire right arm in one blow.

He… _they_ screamed as they felt the pain.

I completely walked past the man, leaving him doubled over and clutching his ribs with his free arm.

Ermac slowly turned and approached me, putting one foot in front of the other with an unusual amount effort. He had never felt pain, not like this. And for the first time ever, he appeared desperate and visibly shaken.

I lifted up a leg and turned it clockwise as just above waist-level. The roundhouse blow struck his side and made him buckle. His ribs were becoming more and more pliable by the minute.

He swung overhanded again and I simply stepped back and let the punch hit exactly nothing before hammering him in the _exact same side _a third time, again with an elbow. I felt another _pop_ as I shattered one of his floating ribs.

The chorus of voices screamed, howled like a wounded animal from inside of him.

I stepped forward with my right foot and kicked off, propelling my entire body as high as my legs could launch me. I spun in the air and let my right arm form a _C _as I used the momentum of the circular motion to bring a powerful blow onto Ermac's head.

The punch was directed downward, knuckles going straight towards the floor at a 45 degree angle. Only instead of the floor, my hand pulverized Ermac's nose and cheek.

I felt the loose cartilage of his nose bend and crunch under the pressure, and his cheek dented inward as the bone supporting his jaw was broken.

I screamed again, in agony and in triumph. Everything hurt so much, yet it felt so good.

Ermac stumbled about like a drunken sailor before collapsing in a heap on the floor. His mask was stained in a deep, sickly red that told me all I needed to know.

I again fell to my knees. _Ouch, that stings too._

Legs, arms, ribs, feet, and everything in between… all of it felt like jello. And they were just as keen to move when I asked them to as the inanimate object. So I sank to the floor, feeling the warm, soaked wood under me as I laid down.

God, it felt like forever since I just stopped moving, stopped fighting. Just let things run their course for once, just sit back and let it be.

I rolled over onto my good side and watched as a bloodied Scorpion picked up Ermac on his way out the door. Where he was running I didn't know, but he, Mileena, and Kano were certainly running for their lives. They all charged at a ferocious pace in the direction of the rear of the stage, and I took that as the sure sign that the battle was over.

I saw Raiden and Sonya in hot pursuit, the former fully charged with electricity stemming from both hands, and the latter with only her bare fists.

Stryker followed a few seconds later, moving towards one end of the building. Everything was getting blurry, blacking out. The figures in front of me faded to shadows, and the shadows too faded until they were indistinguishable from the black sky above.

I knew that these people were right in front of me, but they sounded like they were a million miles away.

And there I lay, bleeding from the mouth, nose, and probably from several organs internally. My arms and legs hurt from blocking and striking for so long. They felt broken, like they would never be healed, and that the pain would never go away. A headache threatened to crack my skull in two, and an ache of similar proportions plagued my stomach.

But you know what? We had won, and all the rest could wait. The asskicking that just went down was the only thing that mattered right now. Not the past, not the future, just the moment and what we had done with it.

Now on one on Earth would have to fight a war. We paid for their freedom, and it was a small price compared to what could have been.

My vision came back into focus for a brief second as a four-armed hulk ran across my field of view, shaking the ground as he retreated from a howling Liu Kang.

Didn't know. Didn't care.

Earth was safe, and those freaks were gone. And everything else could wait.

I felt a hand on my shoulder. Soft, strong little fingers. I leaned my head against the outstretched arm as unconsciousness from the physical exertion overtook me.

I felt another hand on my forehead, warm and comforting. Someone spoke to me, but I couldn't hear them. Someone was cradling me, and it felt so good to be held.

Then everything went dark.

**Hey everyone! The fight is almost over, but there is more yet to come. Thank you for reading and reviewing, and lemme know what you think of the latest. Thanks! Review and enjoy!**


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